


Dark Hearts

by CaptainMorri



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Bondage, Eventual Romance, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Personal Growth, Redemption, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 89
Words: 363,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainMorri/pseuds/CaptainMorri
Summary: AU - Ichigo Kurosaki is a diligent and loyal part of Sosuke Aizen's plot to dominate all 3 worlds, missing all emotion and memories of his childhood, Ichigo proves to be a useful tool, willing and powerful until, by chance or luck, fate intervenes and Ichigo is transferred to Division Six. Whether because of personal or professional motivations Byakuya Kuchiki makes it his goal to restore Ichigo's memories, emotions and soul. But will that be enough to save the young man from the ever tightening grasp of a man with a God complex?
Relationships: Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia, Aizen Sousuke/Hollow Ichigo, Aizen Sousuke/Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Byakuya/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 523
Kudos: 214





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> It gives me great pleasure to finally post this project, it came from an unfinished work of mine from almost six years ago. Six months after beginning an extensive re-write I now share it with you for your entertainment and enjoyment. I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> (Notes: Some character death -some cannon some not- , rare mention of non-con and one written event of non-con, multiple pairings focusing on Ichigo/Byakuya and Ichigo/Aizen, some spoilers for the manga if people have not read it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo accepts a promotion to benefit Aizen's future plans, the only requirement? He has to spy on Byakuya Kuchiki.

Betrayal was something that didn't bother Ichigo in the slightest, since meeting and becoming privy to Aizen's true identity, betrayal was something he had merely come to accept and understand. Whole heartedly.

He disliked Tōsen's ideals about justice, the man was as corrupt as the God he swore fealty to and was twice as cold-hearted. He was, however, a fantastic teacher and Ichigo did respect how the man tutored his prodigy, Hisagi, although it was painfully obvious that the Fukutaichou would never betray Soul Society, even for the sake of making his Taichou proud.

Curiously, he found Gin's company far more welcoming and enjoyable. The silver haired male was as sly as a fox and as deadly as a snake, but he had an excellent sense of humour. It had taken a while for Ichigo to adjust and understand when the man was making a joke, his humour was dark and sarcastic, witty but misunderstood most of the time. He knew how to push the boundaries while never quite stepping out of line.

Ichigo had been encompassed into this fellowship of traitors during his years at Shino Academy. Aizen had poached him, and he had been proving his loyalty ever since. Ichigo had even been brought into the fold concerning certain elements of Aizen's plans, including the plans concerning a particular artefact created by Kisuke Urahara.

Fascinating and terrible as they were, he was surprised by the risks involved in Aizen's plans; while everything was plotted perfectly and to the letter, the man seemed to leave an awful lot down to chance. Ichigo couldn't quite decide if that was because of the excitement and thrill, or simply because Aizen liked the challenge.

One such chance, was the idea that Gin and Tōsen wouldn't kill each other before his plans were completed.

“Why go to the trouble of bein' all proper in a fight, when ya can just stab 'em in the back?” Gin whined, slumping in his seat as he appraised the other Taichou from under those ever closed eyelids.

“It is dishonourable to attack your opponent from behind,” Tōsen stated, dreadlocks barely moving as he turned his head, “Not that a man like you has any honour to defend.”

“Aww Tōsen! Why do ya have to be so mean to me?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes as the two bickered like children, leaning against one of the many bookshelves in Aizen's office, awaiting the arrival of their leader so the meeting could begin.

Aizen's message had been urgent, requesting the immediate presence of all his subordinates to discuss their next move. And being the loyal subordinate he was, Ichigo had arrived early. He had learned early on that Aizen was a man of impeccable punctuation and insanely high standards. He expected the best, he expected perfection. Ichigo was determined to provide that.

He glanced around as the door opened to reveal the cinnamon haired male, his eyes were wide and warm behind square glasses – the best article of his facade. As soon as the door slid shut and was locked, the falsities were dropped, eyes growing narrow and dark, cold and detached; full of calculation and menace. It drove a shudder down the strawberry's spine, though the case was exhilaration rather than the fear he should have felt at the sight.

“Ah, I see you have already arrived. Excellent.” Taking a seat behind his desk, the man poured himself a cup of tea, allowing the beverage to stew as they fell into a stiff silence, awaiting the next words from the man's mouth.

Ichigo folded his arms, shaggy locks framing his face as he hoped for positive news, a new mission, a new task. Anything to break away from the mediocrity of maintaining his own pretence of friendship with the others in the Division.

“How is your Bankai coming along, Ichigo?” Those brown eyes were fixed on him suddenly, over the brim of his cup.

“Progressing slowly,” he answered with a grumble, “I have reached a point of calling Zangetsu into a fully manifested form but... Beyond that things have been difficult. Even with your teaching, the Old Man just isn't willing to give me what I need.”

“I see,” the brunet sighed softly, “It is a pity, it would be a great help if you were able to use Bankai... But it will simply take a little more time. If you are already able to manifest, I am certain it will not be too much longer.”

“I hope not, it is frustrating to have it so close, but for it to be just beyond my grasp.” The younger man clenched a fist.

There was a long, stagnant pause while Aizen sipped his drink again, chocolate eyes flicking between his three accomplices in a scheming manner, seemingly considering his next words carefully. None of them dared break the silence, even Gin who was usually playfully poking at their leader by now was still.

Standing slowly, Aizen removed his glasses and held them aloft in thought, “I have discovered, quite by chance, that Byakuya Kuchiki suspects me of being somewhat less than trustworthy. I am unsure how he has managed to reach this conclusion however it is likely he will begin to investigate my actions soon, if he has not already begun to do so. That woman, Yoruichi, taught him well after all.”

“Ne, Byakuya-san is a clever one, he sees more than he lets on.” Gin commented, “What do ya plan to do, Aizen Taichou?”

“It seems a wise choice to place a mole in the Division, to monitor his investigations and suspicions, someone I can trust.” He replied, eyes instantly flicking to Ichigo's face, “Are you ready for such a task? It will be dangerous, you will have to guard yourself and your actions carefully.”

“Of course.” He straightened instantly, hands falling to his sides, “I'd be honoured.”

“Excellent, I will fill in the necessary paperwork, you can deliver them later today.” Aizen announced, smirking widely.

Gin tilted his head, “How will we conceal the true purpose of the transferral? Everyone knows, Ichi-Berry is a good boy who loves workin' _under_ ya, Taichou.”

“Easily,” the brunet waved a hand dismissively as he sat back down, “Only this morning Kuchiki put out an application for a new squad member with seated officer experience. It is most unfortunate, however, I believe their Third Seat was viciously killed yesterday morning.”

“Such a coincidence.” Ichigo murmured, fingers twitching as he recalled the adrenaline of fulfilling that particular order.

“Indeed.” Aizen stared at the strawberry for several moments, “Of course, as Gin so rightly suggested, everyone knows you are a loyal subordinate who loves working for me-”

“I said ' _under_ ' ya, Taichou.” The silver haired fox said in a sing-song tone.

The brunet sighed, “I am aware, I was simply trying to avoid embarrassing Ichigo with your crude innuendos.”

“I wouldn't bother... They're mostly on point anyway.” Ichigo said bluntly as he raised an eyebrow suggestively at his superior.

“Indeed they are.” Aizen smirked at him knowingly, clearing his throat after a brief pause, “As I was saying, you shall have to make this believable, the last thing I want is for you to come under scrutiny as well. You will have to play the role of a lifetime.”

“Don't worry, Aizen Taichou, I can be very convincing, when I have to be.”

“Oh I am aware of it.” He breathed.

Gin's gaze moved sightlessly between the two men, chuckling behind his sleeve, “Shall Tōsen 'nd I leave ya to say your goodbyes in a more... Horizontal position?”

“No, there will be no need for that, Gin.” The man responded, his expression heated as he looked at Ichigo, a silent statement that there would be a time for such activities later.

* * *

It was just an hour later, after listening to the rest of Aizen's most recent plans and ploys, that Ichigo found himself stood outside the gates into Division Six. His gaze searching the vast walls surrounding the grounds, which were littered with elegant and old cherry blossom trees, a statement of the Kuchiki household's presence.

Upon giving the guards his reason for being there, he was admitted entrance and began a slow walk through the barracks, searching for the Taichou's office.

Division Six wasn't very different to Division Five, the layout; the buildings; the Shinigami. Everything was pristine, tidy and organised within an inch of its' life. Similarly to his home Division, there were no loitering subordinates to be seen, no one was anywhere without a strict purpose.

He passed the training grounds on his travels, there were two areas for fighting, both fenced off to contain the conflict within. One was significantly larger than the other and currently packed with people, which somewhat explained the lack of Shinigami wandering around the Division. He had heard that Kuchiki was something of a slave driver; now he was seeing it first hand.

Ascending the small hill at the centre of the beehive like area, he passed the office that would usually belong to the Divison's Third Seat, smirking to himself once again as he recalled the reason for it being so dark and empty in there currently. He continued higher, passing the Fukutaichou's office, sensing the abundantly familiar reiatsu of his childhood friend, Renji Abarai.

Sighing at the idea of having to maintain his facade for more extended periods of time, thanks to his so called best friend being the Division's second in command, he trudged the final few steps up to the Taichou's office, hearing voices coming from inside. Undoubtedly, Kuchiki and Renji himself.

“After yesterday's shocking discovery, I am more certain than ever that Aizen is more than he appears to be, I am positive that the person who applies to fill the post will be from Division Five. So depending on who it actually is... We may need to watch our backs, Abarai.” Byakuya's stoic voice carried through the wooden door, making Ichigo's lips twitch.

Renji's baritone followed, “I agree completely, Taichou, but I'd still like to bring Ichigo in on this... He should know what sort of man he is working-”

“I know he is your friend, but we cannot risk it. If even a drop of information reaches Aizen, my investigations will be over before they have even begun. The needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few.” The Kuchiki heir's interruption wasn't rough, it was seemingly more filled with concern than annoyance.

Amused by just how strongly the Taichou felt about the situation, he resolved himself to begin his own part in things as swiftly as possible, it was paramount he be able to given Aizen as much information as possible. He knocked curtly on the door and waited to be admitted, flashing a recognisable smirk at Renji as it turned out to be he who opened up.

“Kuchiki Taichou, Abarai Fukutaichou, I'm sorry to intrude.” He bowed his head curtly before pulling his application form from inside his shihakusho, “Aizen Taichou sent me to deliver this, I am to apply for the position of your Third Seat.”

He approached the raven haired man unwaveringly, holding eye contact as he passed over the rolled sheet of paper, stepping back as he awaited the noble's verdict. His eyes never strayed, even as he sensed Renji trying to get his attention, frankly, he wasn't interested.

“I had, of course, been expecting some forms to return from the other Divisions, however yours is the first and only so far.” The Taichou allowed himself to read through the impressive recommendation from Aizen, “Everything seems in good order. I do have one question however.”

“What is that, Kuchiki Taichou?” The strawberry feigned curiosity.

The raven haired man glanced up at him, eyes narrowing slightly, “Currently, you are only a Fifth Seat, in Division Five. This will be quite a leap, both in terms of the responsibilities you will be expected to adhere to, and your personal power. Why were you put forward as the most suitable candidate for this position?”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, he'd expected several questions but this wasn't one of them; momentarily taken aback he considered a careful reply, something believable, “In truth, I also questioned Aizen Taichou's choice at first. However, he has always shown a lot of belief in me and my abilities, even back when I was in Shino. I'm diligent, loyal and willing to work hard. I also have one thing that my Fourth and Third Seats do not...”

“And that is?”

“Well...” He hesitated and finally allowed himself a peek at Renji, the redhead looked interested as well as slightly nervous, he wondered if that was to do with the conversation he had overheard previously, Ichigo then let out a small breath and returned his attention to the man in front of him, “The ability to fully manifest my Zanpakutō.”

“No way!” The redhead immediately exclaimed, “You've only been working on that for a matter of months, you _can't_ be that close already!”

“Enough, Abarai.” Byakuya said firmly, shooting a glare at him, “That is impressive to say the least, Kurosaki, I notice it says in your notes that Aizen has been teaching you personally. He must indeed see something great in you.”

Ichigo could smell the displeasure in the other man's voice, keeping him from becoming suspicious was going to be a harder task than he originally anticipated. But he hadn't failed Aizen yet, now wasn't going to be the start of that slippery slope.

There was a stagnant silence through the office, Byakuya clearly assessing the situation like the tactician he was; his eyes glanced over the application in his hands once again before he seemed to make a decision, and stamped the bottom corner of the form with his Division's insignia.

“Welcome to Division Six, Ichigo Kurosaki. The former Third Seat's room will be prepared for you by tomorrow, some of his possessions still need to be taken away before you can move in. Everything will be ready for you to begin your new duties in the morning, if that is convenient?”

“Absolutely.” Ichigo bowed to the man but took the time to look him straight in the eye, “I will look forward to working _under_ you, Kuchiki Taichou.”

The raven's eyes twitched momentarily, as if detecting the subtle innuendo in his words. Any surprise was swiftly hidden behind his facade of dispassionate coldness, “Likewise. Dismissed, Kurosaki.”

With a curt nod, he left the office, taking a deep breath as he kept the smug smirk from smearing its way across his lips like it wanted to, walking eagerly back through the Division. Now that he had successfully begun his task, it was time for that goodbye with Aizen.

“Yo, Ichigo wait up!”

He groaned inwardly and looked over his shoulder, seeing a bundle of scarlet hair heading his way, Renji had followed him, “Did you need something, Renji?” He asked as warmly as he could manage.

“I just wanted to catch up, we haven't spoken much since graduation... I've barely seen you in fact.” The man trailed off momentarily before grinning, “So, how are you?”

“I'm fine.” Ichigo replied simply, before backtracking as he remembered he had to be believable, “Things have been... Busy. Bankai training takes a lot of time. How about you? How's life been since becoming Division Six's Fukutaichou?”

“I still can't believe you're at full manifestation already... You've always been a fast learner but Bankai is meant to take years and years of study...” Shaking his head, his friend fell into a comfortable stroll beside him, “I've been good. There is a hell of a lot of responsibility, and the paper work is a nightmare. But... It's nice to be respected. I enjoy working with Kuchiki Taichou.”

“Even though he took Rukia from you once?” The strawberry snorted.

“Well, things were tense for a while, no joke. But we worked through it. Things are better now, he sees me as a person and not as a-”

“Dog from Rukongai?” He interrupted, raising his eyebrows, “You do remember when he called you that right? I don't think I'd forgive him...”

Renji tensed and his jaw tightened, “Like I said, we worked through it. He's nicer to Rukia now as well.”

Ichigo had to refrain from snorting, unable to process the idea of Kuchiki being nice to anyone, barring his own reflection, “Well, I guess that's something.”

“Besides, Rukia isn't well at the moment, she's got some kind of flu... Really low reiatsu and stuff. We're taking it in turns to look after her.” The redhead murmured thoughtfully.

“Well, I guess it's a good excuse to spend time with her again.” The strawberry mused, sighing inwardly, “I'll see if I can pop in and see her sometime this week.”

They fell into a comfortable and unstrained silence. Renji couldn't help but watch Ichigo, noting how much he had changed from the kid he'd grown up with. The way he moved and held himself. He was almost like a different person entirely.

They had met in Inuzuri just over twenty years ago as kids, and ended up going to Shino together, Ichigo had been willowy but flexible; able to wriggle out of the tightest scenarios with his proficiency at hand to hand combat. He was shy, but refused to be bullied. Bashful, but bold when he had to defend himself. He didn't make friends easily at all, he was the kind of guy who never seemed to be really interested in the people around him, disconnected even, and it didn't make him the easiest person to be around.

But now... Ichigo stood tall and proud, his form muscular and firm; he was strong, those almond shaped chestnut eyes were one of the only things that had remained the same, never showing real warmth or empathy, they were dead. Where plainness had once resided, it was replaced by a heated attractiveness that drew interest wherever he went, long lashes and shaggy orange coloured hair, no matter what Ichigo did, his hair always drew attention.

Renji sighed, his Taichou had noticed Ichigo as well. It was impossible not to really. They had both made an impression on the Kuchiki nobleman when he had adopted Rukia. Had it not been for Ichigo's chilled determination to ensure that Rukia be allowed to finish her studies like she wanted, instead of being immediately graduated they would have lost the demure woman from their lives completely.

Ever since his own transfer to Division Six, Renji had been aware of Byakuya's silent intrigue. Their working relationship had been strained at first, but he wanted to believe he had earned some of the man's respect. During the few personal conversations they had ever shared, Renji had come to realise that his Taichou's interest in Ichigo wasn't purely professional. There was lust there too. Byakuya Kuchiki wasn't used to people standing up to him, and Ichigo had done nothing but that during Rukia's adoption. But... His Taichou was an honourable man, never one to breach the like of leader and subordinate.

Unlike what he had heard about Aizen. Hinamori had told him so many things, whispered conversations, disturbing details about Ichigo's relationship with the Division Five Taichou; they still sent chills down his spine to imagine his best friend entertaining Aizen's diabolical sexual fantasies.

Okay, so he didn't know for sure that Aizen had diabolical sexual fantasies, or if Ichigo was really entertaining them. But Hinamori had made some disturbing connections, ones that he had so far not passed on to his Taichou through fear of what he would make of them.

It was juddering really, had his own Taichou not begun to suspect something was off, Renji would never have begun to see the coldness in the eyes that so often seemed warm behind those glasses. The smiles that were just a little too wide, the offers of help that were just a little too generous.

“You have been staring at me on and off for about fifteen minutes, Renji. Should I be afraid for my own safety?” Ichigo said suddenly, looking at his friend with mock amusement.

The redhead jolted and flushed, “N-No! I was just thinking... About how much you've changed since we met in Inuzuri.” He admitted.

“Huh...” He snorted, “I was a pathetic runt back then.”

“You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, we were all pretty weak back then.” Renji sighed softly, patting his friend on the shoulder, “Tell you what, why don't we go out for a drink tonight. We can invite Rukia, I know she'll want to come even if she's feeling rough, to celebrate your promotion!”

“As nice as that sounds, Renji, I'm afraid I must decline.” He replied as they reached the gates to Division Five, “I have a prior engagement. But we can go drinking anytime, and seeing as you're my superior now, I expect you to pay.” He smirked.

“What was I thinking... You haven't changed at all.”

“See you tomorrow, Renji.” Ichigo winked and headed inside quickly.

Renji stared at the space Ichigo had occupied seconds before and sighed heavily, “A prior engagement huh?” He shook his head, pretty sure that if Hinamori's rumours were true, that prior engagement was with Aizen. He just hoped that Ichigo knew what he was doing, and wasn't otherwise embroiled in that man's darkness.

* * *

Ichigo perched on the edge of Aizen's desk, resting back on his hands as he gazed at the brunet who's hands were wandering so teasingly up and down his thighs, his lips parted slightly as he sucked in gentle pants, cheeks dusted pink with desire.

“So, Kuchiki believed the reason for your transferral, yes?” Aizen asked.

“Of course,” the strawberry replied breathlessly, “Although, before I went into the office, I overheard the pair of them talking... He had already guessed you would send someone to apply, though he didn't assess that it would be me. I think Renji's belief in me, and our friendship, is masking the possibility that I would betray them.”

“That's very good.” He glanced up at the face of his subordinate, “Continue your friendship with Abarai at all costs, if it conceals your true purpose from Kuchiki then it will be most useful in the weeks to come.”

“Yes, Taichou.” He responded mechanically.

“Excellent. With that out of the way, I do believe we agreed upon a more horizontal farewell, did we not?” Aizen was on his feet and leaning over the smaller man, fingers abandoning his thighs in favour of digging into his hips, holding him tightly, keeping him still.

“Yes, I believe you did mention something of the sort.” He watched unflinchingly as those glasses were removed, and as hair was pushed back out of his face, the sight making his heart thunder all the faster.

“Mm, indeed I did.”


	2. I Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo settles into Division Six as the new Third Seat, but it isn't long before he starts putting his detective skills to use. Does Byakuya Kuchiki have any evidence against Aizen yet? Ichigo is determined to find out.

Ichigo's new room was surprisingly lavish in its décor, the walls were christened white with large red and orange swirls distracting from the otherwise plain backdrop. Upon seeing those bold colours, he came to the conclusion that Renji and Rukia had been in to redecorate before his arrival. No one else would have dared put orange on the walls of a room he was going to live in.

It was a larger room than the one he'd had in Division Five, with more rooms for a start; better furnishings and a bigger bed – in his old room the front door led into the bedroom, with a cubbyhole of a bathroom stowed out of sight, and a kitchen barely roomy enough to swing a cat. It had been practical, but not ideal.

Yet here, the front door led to an elaborate lounge, leading onto the bedroom through a set of double doors, with an en-suit bathroom. The kitchen, which was on the other side of the living room, was large enough to host a party.

It was decent. And it was only a short walk away from his office, the one he had walked past on the way to hand in his application the day before. He was sure Renji and Rukia had worked their magic there as well.

Not bothering to examine the rooms too closely, he knew he wouldn't have anything to worry about thanks to those two. Even though he had distanced himself from them as soon as Aizen had taken him under his wing, they still cared about him for some reason.

The strawberry haired Shinigami sat down slowly, running his fingers across the fine leather covering the arm of his chair, and sighed. He felt spoilt. He had practically been handed the position of Third Seat due to Aizen's whim of placing a spy in Division Six, and his former best friends had redecorated, leaving him nothing to worry about.

Former best friends... That was a weird one to get his head around. Mostly, because as far as Renji and Rukia were aware they remained his best friends. He'd always been antisocial at the best of times, awkward and unfriendly, so his current distance from them appeared normal.

But it wasn't, not really. He had forcibly decided to stop spending time with them as soon as Aizen had taken him in fully. He knew he couldn't continue a true and honest friendship with either of them, not when he was plotting the downfall of the Shinigami behind their backs.

Aizen had found him in the Academy, the same year as Renji, Rukia, Hinamori and Kira; on the one occasion that he had questioned the man, Aizen had told him that the one thing which had interested him was not Ichigo's hair like most people, but the dead look in his eyes. Ichigo had played dumb that day, pretended to be confused by his statement. But he knew what he had meant, and later it had come in useful for the man.

Ichigo couldn't remember why his heart had disappeared, but it had happened and he had been left without for as long as he could remember. There was a hole in his memory, a blank space which refused to be filled by any kind of recollection or acknowledgement. He often wondered if something had happened to him, something terrible, that he had driven out to survive, but whatever it was it had rendered him incapable of feeling.

He felt pain, and he felt lust. But the key thing which made him invaluable to Aizen, was his inability to feel anything else. There was no fear. No love. No guilt. He had never been able to make connections easily, making friends like Renji and Rukia had taken a long time, a lot of effort, and a lot of pretending.

That was all he was capable of doing, mimicking the way he saw other people behave. It was never natural for him, sometimes he had even forgotten to do it, making them uncomfortable. The only person who had ever dragged any sense of loyalty from him, was Sōsuke Aizen, who viewed him as a loyal; malleable; attractive and willing tool of destruction.

Tipping his head back, he remembered the orders he had received only days ago. To kill the Third Seat of Division Six. He'd agreed without question, and completed his task without mercy or pity. The man had died terribly, it had been bloody and savage, appearing to an outsider like something half way between a Hollow attack, and a wild animal.

He hadn't meant for it to happen like that, he'd planned to assassinate him quietly, quickly and to have it over with, minimal fuss, minimal mess. But something else had taken over. The moment blood was shed, that deeper; darker instinct kicked in.

Aizen hadn't cared, the job was done and everything had fallen into place.

Shaking his head sharply, he got to his feet, waving off the melancholy echo of memories as he left his new home and decided to have a proper exploration of the Division. He paused on the front step, sliding the door shut as with a curious tilt of his head he sensed his new Taichou was not in the vicinity.

“What excellent timing.” He chuckled mirthlessly, a spring in his step as he headed through the Division, recapping his journey from the previous day as he meandered his way up to his new Taichou's office.

This was likely his best opportunity to search the man's office for any evidence he had so far compiled about Aizen.

Upon reaching his destination, he took a measured glance around and tried to open the door, pausing as he discovered it was locked. Kuchiki was distrusting of his subordinates, it appeared. Wise really.

Crouching, he made another sweep of the area, sensing for any nearby reiatsu – with some difficulty – and when he was satisfied that he would be undisturbed, he pulled an elegant lock picking kit from inside his robes, courtesy of Gin. That man was a legend.

Ichigo deftly picked the lock, slipping different instruments in and out of the small gap, twisting carefully a couple of times in one direction before wiggling in another. A triumphant grin finding his face as he heard a satisfactory click, the door swinging open for him.

He hurried inside and closed the door behind him, putting his kit away again as he cast an eye over the room.

It was unchanged, save for the in tray and out tray, the latter of which was full to the brim while the former was as barren as the wastelands of Hueco Mundo. Kuchiki was a man who believed in order, believed in getting things done. And on this occasion, Ichigo was happy to compare himself to the nobleman.

He strode towards the immaculately kept desk and sat down in the Taichou's chair, taking a moment to settle himself before he began sifting through the drawers for anything that could be linked back to Aizen, or his plans. He wasn't really expecting to find anything, Kuchiki wasn't an idiot, he'd been trained by one of the best stealth operatives of all time, far too clever to leave anything-

Ichigo froze, fingers dancing over a palm sized envelope, the name 'Fugai' scrawled very neatly on it. While he wasn't certain whether or not the disk inside would relate to Aizen in anyway, it seemed peculiar to find the storage device concealed beneath layers and layers of official documentation. Something scratched at the back of his skull, a tingle of instinctual urge. Ichigo was almost certain that Aizen had previously mentioned Fugai in a meeting, although he couldn't remember its relevance.

Better safe than sorry.

The envelope made its way into his uniform, out of sight, and content that he had searched everything else thoroughly, he put the draws back in position, making sure the Taichou's possessions weren't out of place before he headed for the door.

The sound of his new Taichou's voice had him freezing in his tracks, he sucked in a sharp breath, only just feeling the faint thrum of the nobleman's reiatsu on the other side of the door. He cursed his ability to detect reiatsu, which had always been somewhat underdeveloped compared to his peers. Ichigo dove over the desk, slipping beneath it and hiding in the leg space, making himself and his reiatsu as small as possible as he heard the door slide open.

“It was extremely mindless for me to have forgotten to deliver that paperwork to you before my meeting, Abarai, I apologise. My mind was elsewhere, I must admit.” The raven haired man's voice echoed around the office as he entered.

“It's absolutely fine, Taichou, everyone is allowed an off day every now and again. It isn't like you make a habit of it.” The redhead answered, his voice was quieter, apparently he was lingering outside.

“My thanks for your understanding.” There was a subtle softness in the Kuchiki heir's voice, perhaps there was a rare smile offered, “Have you seen Kurosaki today?”

Ichigo covered his mouth with his hand at the mention of his name, tension seeping into his muscles with the effort to remain perfectly still.

“No, Taichou, the gate staff reported that he arrived not long ago, but I've not caught a sight of him yet. It's... Strange really, usually I can pick up his reiatsu really easily but it has become far more distant recently. It makes it harder to keep an eye on him.”

The strawberry frowned, Renji was monitoring his movements? Since when? Why? This was a troubling development.

“You are still uncomfortable with my decision to keep him in the dark, aren't you?” The noble asked, the slight muffling of his voice suggested he had turned to face his Fukutaichou.

“I...” There was a pregnant pause as the other clearly struggled with an answer, “Yes, Kuchiki Taichou. Despite his... Coldness towards others, he is well liked among the Divisions, influential even. I worry that Aizen will see this as leverage, and might target him for it, to win him over... Or worse.”

“Truly?” The older of the two seemed to stiffen at the suggestion, “I suppose it makes sense... But there is far more to Kurosaki than that.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Hm?” Kuchiki hesitated and picked up the papers he needed, “Nothing in particular. I'm just allowing my mind to wander. Here are those papers.”

Ichigo could hear the shuffling of papers as they were handed over, as well as the movement of feet. He could just about tell that the Kuchiki heir had moved to the doorway beside Renji.

“There is one thing which concerns me above all else, you know.” Kuchiki said suddenly, “What if Aizen has already sunk his claws into him? You said Kurosaki has been distant recently, but at the same time that isn't entirely unusual for him... He is the perfect type of person to go unnoticed as Aizen's spy. No one will suspect someone so antisocial of acting strange because it's normal for them to be... Absent.”

Renji's gulp was audible, “I... I don't know... He's been in Division Five since graduation, Aizen had taken an interest in him before that though. If he's had poison dripping in his ears all this time...”

Byakuya's scowl echoed in his words as he spoke again, “Speak no more of this for now, Renji. All will be revealed in time. If you do see Kurosaki before I do, tell him to meet me at the training grounds at dusk.”

“You're going to continue his training? For Bankai?”

“Yes, if I refuse to do so it will be suspicious.”

Ichigo slowly lowered his hand from his mouth, listening as they discussed him so freely, hardly able to believe his luck that he had been present to hear it. He could prepare for their questioning and their watching if he knew it was happening. He was going to have to be far more careful than he first thought, and prove to them that he was either innocent, or being misled.

Luck was truly on his side as Byakuya Kuchiki then left along side Renji, leaving the door unlocked.

* * *

Aizen rested his chin on his knuckles as he watched the recording play out, there was nothing concrete, nothing to tie his name to any of the recent deaths. But there were loose ends, distant traces which could be followed if in the correct hands.

“You have done exceptionally well to get your hands on this so quickly.” He murmured, retrieving the disk and pinching it between his fingertips as he appraised his subordinate, “Now I can make this simply... Disappear.”

“It was nothing, I can't quite believe he left it sitting in his desk like that.” Ichigo replied with a small shrug, “What of everything else I've told you? Am I to remain in Division Six when they are already suspicious of me?”

“Are you confident in your ability to conceal your real motives?”

“Of course.” He said, as if it were an obvious answer, “However, seeing as their suspicions already extend so far, I wonder if it would be a wise course of action for me to... Confess.”

“Excuse me?” Aizen's eyes narrowed.

The younger man tilted his head, holding a hand up defensively from the look he was given, “To a point at least. They may no longer be able to be convinced that I am utterly unaware of things... But they may be more willing to believe that I'm simply... Misguided.”

The brunet relaxed at the explanation, “I see... That is a smart idea. If it becomes to hard to feign innocence completely, follow your instincts. We shall see what comes of it. I am surprised however, to hear that it was Abarai who first suggested my interest in you might not be innocent... I didn't believe he possessed enough brain function to come up with something so... Astute.”

“He isn't stupid, Taichou, merely hard headed and controlled by his emotions.” Ichigo shifted his weight restlessly, “At the very least, they still have no idea what happened to my predecessor, nor do I think they will connect the dots.”

“Good.” Aizen rose to his feet and walked around the desk towards the smaller man, resting a hand on his shoulder and smiling, “You've done well so far, keep this up and when the time comes you will be at my side where you belong.”

“I am glad to be of service.” He bowed his head respectfully, turning to leave.

Ichigo stopped in his tracks as he felt Aizen's hand grip his wrist, looking back at him sharply. His mouth dried as he saw the look in his eyes, heated and promising. His gut clenched with instant arousal, he knew that look well.

“I should return to Division Six, before I'm missed, Aizen Taichou.” The strawberry breathed, biting his bottom lip as he was dragged closer.

“Indeed...” The brunet hummed, pulling his subordinate down onto his lap, “And yet I am certain you are more than capable of making a suitable excuse. Am I wrong?”

Ichigo let out a shaky breath, pressing against his superior as his cheeks warmed at the feeling of firm hands sliding around his buttocks, “No, Taichou. You're not wrong.”

Aizen's smirk was as wicked as it was lustful, one hand trailing up the younger man's spine. He enjoyed the shiver he watched roll across his lithe form as he gripped a firm fistful of orange hair, fingers never slacking the Taichou drew Ichigo into a hot kiss, biting his lips and tongue firmly until he heard a whine break free.

It was the only down side of Ichigo playing his role in Division Six. The distance between them, the reduced time they could spend together like this. Ichigo was a fantastic lover. Obedient, fearless, sexual.

But, once his plans came to fruition, once everything was ready and completed nothing would part them again. Nothing, and no one.

* * *

It was only a short time later when Ichigo re-entered Division Six, pondering Aizen's words, he felt a distinct touch of pride at the praise he had received. He knew, better than most, that the man's true nature was dark and twisted, full of malice and a crisp lack of care for anyone who crossed him. The kind of man who planned things immaculately right up until the end, but who still enjoyed the thrill of something not going completely according to his expectations.

Aizen had seemed amused, as well as a little disappointed, that up until recently no one had suspected him of being anything other than what he wanted them to believe. This recent development with Byakuya Kuchiki had presented Aizen with a new rush, the excitement of out manoeuvring a man who was as clever as he was.

Ichigo had decided a long time ago, or at least what felt like a long time ago, to do whatever was in his power to ensure Aizen succeeded in his plans. Aizen had been the first person to give him a purpose, beyond the mundane normality of studying, graduating and fulfilling the simplistic duties of a Shinigami. Aizen had offered him a real, deep seated purpose.

He was a weapon. He knew that. He accepted that. In truth, Ichigo only felt truly alive when he was either killing, or fucking. The 'or' was a variable, he wasn't above doing both at the same time. Regardless, he felt more alive serving Aizen than he had for the entirety of the life he could remember. That had to be worth something.

Barely realising that he had arrived at his room, he fumbled with his keys, dragging himself out of the deep thoughts spinning in his head; he paused as he sensed Renji getting closer and sighed softly as a flash of red appeared in his peripherals.

“Hey Renji.” He muttered, “Been Shunpo training again?”

“How did you guess?”

“Aside from the fact you look like you've been running around half of Seireitei carrying Yamamoto?” He asked sarcastically, “You're face is flushed and you stink.”

“Wow, go for the low blow why don't you.” Renji scowled as he sniffed himself, he had to agree though, “Alright, I haven't had chance to shower yet.”

“You always did push yourself too hard, trying to impress Rukia.” He shook his head with a chuckle as he finished unlocking his door, looking at him snidely, “How's that working out for you by the way?”

“Ichigo reign it in a bit yeah? Now you're being a bastard.” The other folded his arms sharply.

Ichigo sighed inwardly and offered a smile, “Sorry, sorry. I was only teasing. I'm serious though, how are things with Rukia?”

Unable to remain mad at his friend for long, Renji chuckled and rubbed the back of his head bashfully, “Eh, you know. She's being a Rukia, even when she's sick I can't push her around at all.”

“Maybe you should try a little harder, make her see you.” He murmured.

“I guess so... But I have the Taichou to think about too, it probably wouldn't seem very professional to make moves on his sister.” Renji ran a hand down his face, “Oh, by the way, he wants you to meet him at the training grounds soon.”

Swearing inwardly, he cursed himself for forgetting that section of the conversation he had overheard in the office and forced a wince out, “Alright, I'll grab Zangetsu and head over.”

“Alright, good luck, he's a monster when it comes to training.” Renji clapped him firmly on the shoulder before disappearing from view, probably to get cleaned up and do some work.

Ichigo huffed, glancing up towards the already setting sun, glaring hatefully at the sunset hues striking their way into the sky, wishing he had spent more time outside of the Division to avoid this confrontation. The idea of fighting Kuchiki wasn't entertaining. Not as entertaining as his training with Aizen had been anyway.

Huge sword on his back, he trudged through the Division, making his way to the grounds he had seen the day before. The smaller area, which he ventured to first, was empty; it was when he moved towards the larger training section that he laid eyes on his new Taichou.

Byakuya was stood in the middle of the ring, sandals tucked neatly into the sand as he waited, eyes closed, elegant tendrils of pink blossom rising and falling around his feet, winding around his arms and fingers, gently rustling those lengthy locks of raven hair. The rapture of the man's reiatsu was mesmerising.

Vaulting the fence and approaching, Ichigo found himself almost completely encapsulated by the other man's aura, it was so pure and righteous, so controlled and perfect. So very different to his own turbulent nature.

“Kuchiki Taichou, Renji said you wanted to see me.” He announced his presence, standing a short way off as he watched those swirling blossoms.

His superior's eyes flicked open at the sound of his voice, Ichigo was startled to see a brilliant white glow about them before it faded back into the usual steel grey, the blossoms around him rising up and solidifying into katana form.

“Ah, thank you for coming Kurosaki.” The man gave his Zanpakutō a few practice swings.

“I didn't have anything else on.” He said bluntly.

“Of course,” Byakuya breathed, appraising him with a curious expression, “Regardless of whatever drivel Abarai has spilled to you, I do not make a habit of training with my subordinates personally; I am doing so with you because I believe you have great potential, and I would like to assist you in achieving it.”

“I understand, Kuchiki Taichou.” He responded, almost as mechanically as he did with Aizen.

Raising one perfect eyebrow at the obligatory response, he lifted his katana, “Very well, then show me where you are in your training currently. I want to feel your strength, Kurosaki.”

The younger man reached around slowly, fingers curling around the hilt of the massive blade on his back, he could sense the bandage like bindings loosen at his command, and he swept the sword forward, his reiatsu rippling across the training ground, dusting up fragments of sand with the density.

There was a momentary look of amazement as his Taichou felt the flow of his power for the first time, and they shared a long look, Ichigo smirked slightly, “Surprise?” He growled before sprinting forwards.

They fell into an aggressive pattern of clashing metal and reiatsu, sparks splattering the ground with the forcefulness of each blow. Parting, only to meet again within a heartbeat, dancing across the sand and kicking up dust with the movement of their feet.

Ichigo was unwavering. Having trained under Aizen for two years, and he had resided himself to the belief that he would never sense a reiatsu more powerful, or an opponent more terrifyingly overwhelming as that man.

He recalled with ease, the very first time he had fought the Division Five Taichou, in the privacy of a specialised training ring, away from prying eyes, where Aizen could be himself and Ichigo could learn to temper himself against the onslaught of his power without crumbling.

Aizen had battered him. Quite literally, until he was black and blue.

A far cry from the kindly, warm man he pretended to be to his colleagues... He was darker than any being Ichigo had ever met, and delighted in the suffering of others, especially when it benefited him.

It had taken weeks, months of agonising training, three hours a day, every single day of the week, before he could even take a step forwards under the magnitude of that reiatsu. He had been utterly crushed, both physically and psychologically every single time. That had not caused him to feel fear, even when upon hitting the ground once again he'd receive a torturous thrashing, he didn't fear it.

Aizen was cruel, but he had profited from it. The harshness of his teaching had served to bring out the best in Ichigo, far quicker than kindness would have. And on the day he had finally managed to withstand the pressure, the crushing tremulous pressure of his power, Aizen had been proud. But only for a short moment, before he then revealed even greater levels of reiatsu, crushing him all over again.

Ichigo honestly believed there was no end to Aizen's reiatsu, as every time he seemed to jump one hurdle, more was piled on his back. Ichigo could only pray to whatever God was listening, that he never fell on his truest bad side.

A hiss escaped him suddenly as he felt the sting of metal against his cheek, jumping back he reached up and brushed his fingers over his skin, feeling a slice just beneath his left eye.

“You appear distracted, Kurosaki, are you not taking this seriously?” Byakuya scolded, sweeping his blade to the side to fling off the residue of scarlet globes.

He recognised many of Ichigo's movements and mechanisms, the resemblance to Aizen's own fighting style was great, and there as no longer any shadow of a doubt in his mind that his fellow Taichou had been training the youth in the image of himself. In some sense, Renji was right. Aizen had been enforcing his claim over the strawberry haired man.

“I am taking it seriously,” Ichigo muttered, wiping his cheek again before returning both hands to his blade, “I get bored easily, and your movements are just... Well, so easy to predict.” He added with an cocksure scoff.

“Is that so.” The Kuchiki heir breathed, eyes narrowed at the poorly veiled attempt to rile him, “You have my apologies for boring you... Allow me to rectify that.”

Byakuya leapt into a viscous flurry of Shunpo, he could see the widening of Ichigo's eyes instantly, apparently Aizen had neglected to inform his subordinate of the skills his new Taichou possessed. What a pity.

“Arrogance leads to failure, Kurosaki. Learn to contain yours in future.” He called out calmly, darting towards him from behind, sword striking down in a blisteringly fast arc towards the strawberry's shoulder.

“Arrogance?” Ichigo repeated, head and body swivelling slowly as that great sword rose and neatly deflected the blow that would have caused so much damage, “I'm not sure if you're referring to mine... Or yours.”

Not for the first time that evening, the Taichou was taken by surprise. Aizen had taught him Shunpo?! Teeth clenched, he disengaged, eyes narrowed to meagre slits now, “That man...”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Kuchiki Taichou. But I did tell you... There's a reason I qualify as a Third Seat.” Confident smile sliding onto his face, he felt the beginning of adrenaline creeping around his body, tickles of excitement touching at the corners of his mind.

“You said it was because you could manifest your Zanpakutō... Not because you are adept at Shunpo.” The Taichou hissed, “I wonder how many secrets are rattling around in that head of yours.”

“Perhaps you'll find out one day.” He shot forwards suddenly, bouncing around swiftly, not quite matching the speed Byakuya had shown, but swift enough that he would easily overtake Renji.

Tutting, the noble watched him, eyes darting to follow his form in the blur of speed he was creating. It was truly impressive to say the least. He could understand why Aizen was so transfixed, Ichigo had an overwhelmingly natural talent. A potential which any Taichou would find hard to resist moulding for their own ends.

“You look a little distracted, Taichou, I hope you're taking this seriously.” Ichigo was suddenly in front of him, the point of his sword tucked neatly under Byakuya's chin.

“Tch.” His eyes darkened, “Seeing as you are so determined to waltz over my pride this evening, perhaps you'll do me the honour of showing me your Shikai.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible.” Ichigo responded, flitting away as he saw his Taichou lunge towards him again, blocking him and adding a kick to his counter.

“And why is that?” The Kuchiki heir demanded.

Spinning and ducking simultaneously as the Taichou attacked him with more feeling behind it, Ichigo maintained a casually cool exterior, meeting his Zanpakutō again and pressing against him forcefully, trying to overpower him with muscle alone, “Because...” He breathed as he looked him in the eye, “I am already in Shikai.”

“What?” The raven haired noble breathed, receiving a hard kick to the abdomen for his bewilderment that sent him reeling back onto the sand, he was stunned by the sudden strength behind the strike, “That... That is why you've progressed so swiftly towards Bankai... Your reiatsu is immense, even I can sense that. You physically can't contain it all in a Zanpakutō which is not in Shikai form.”

“Correct.” Ichigo allowed the man a moment to get back to his feet, darting backwards before propelling his body towards him once more, ducking his defence and planting a firm hand in his chest, knocking him off balance as his eyes began to glow, reiatsu rising in a tempestuous flurry, placing deliberate and debilitating blows on his Taichou, letting him feel the full force of his power, “It also means that I am capable of maintaining battles for longer periods of time... Despite using... Powerful attacks.”

The Taichou had to fight not to allow redness to seep onto his cheeks as he landed on his ass for a second time, hand flying out and tightly grasping the material of his subordinates' shihakusho, pulling him down too as they landed in an untidy pile on the floor, the younger man laying flat against him.

“Your technique is certainly impressive, as is your strength and reiatsu,” the nobleman breathed, gazing at the more than slightly attractive face which was so close to his, “However, you have much to learn.”

“How so?” Ichigo asked, genuinely confused- had he not just overpowered him successfully?

“You believe that as soon as your enemy falls to the ground, the battle is over,” the raven haired male whispered, “Scatter, Senbonzakura.”


	3. Conflict Of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya knows something is amiss and decides to broach the subject with his new Third Seat, it's a dangerous move but a necessary one.

By the time Byakuya had called an end to their first training session, Ichigo had been bloodied, bruised and unwilling to go down despite his numerous injuries. He had to wonder just what Aizen had done to him to create such an unrelenting force of pure willpower. It was terrifying.

It wasn't in his nature to coddle his subordinates. Ichigo was powerful and gifted, that much was obvious, and as such he would receive an even harder time than most of the people Byakuya did personally tutor. If Renji thought he had it hard... He would be shocked.

Byakuya was no fool, he knew he had locked his office door that morning. He also knew that it had been unlocked upon his return. Someone had been hiding under his desk and he knew who it had been.

Ichigo Kurosaki. There was so much more to him than met the eye. To the eye he was a handsome; attractive and foxy young man with an ego to match. But looking beneath the surface, he was devious; calculative and manipulative. Just like Aizen.

Their training match had been about far more than continuing to help the youth reach Bankai. It had given him a chance to see just how much Aizen's training had impacted him, every move was perfection, like water flowing and gliding through the air with a deadly force. Beauty and deadliness mixed in a tomb of physique and resoluteness.

He could see Aizen reflected in the way Ichigo moved across the battle field, the way he analysed the fight, and the way he sought the fastest and cleverest method to overcome his foe. He had to ask the question, why would Aizen train him so thoroughly, unless he intended to bring him into whatever dark plan he had created?

Byakuya glanced over at the strawberry, gesturing for him to walk with him, and in silence he took his newest subordinate to the private bathhouse around the back of the training area, one which only Renji, his Third Seat and himself were allowed to use after training.

Unlocking the door and admitting them entrance, he headed inside the warm room ahead of the enigma behind him. The noble began to undress, hanging his clothes on the pegs provided and tucking his sandals under the bench before his hands rose to his hair, carefully unclipping the pearl white kenseikan that depicted him as the current head of his household. He was especially careful with them as he placed them with his clothes, grabbing a towel and setting it down at the edge of the natural hot spring which formed the bath.

The Kuchiki heir was old enough and worldly enough that his own body gave him no embarrassment when viewed by others. He had bathed here with Renji many times while training with him and it was something natural in his eyes.

A sigh escaped him as he slid into the water, allowing his muscles to relax before he cast his gaze towards his new Third Seat. The younger man was taking a lot longer to undress, and Byakuya couldn't quite decide if that was because of the injuries inflicted in training, or because he was purposefully being enticing.

Unable to completely tear his eyes away, he permitted himself the sly indulgence of glancing over the contours of the other's body; the ripple of taut muscles beneath tanned skin, and the fine definition of his spine. There were scars there, on his back, not many and probably not normally noticeable, but he could see them dancing under the illumination of the full moon above them, he couldn't help but wonder how he'd come by them.

His eyes sank lower, despite his brain telling him to stop, and a small silent gasp escaped his lips as he saw a violent array of bruises on his hips and buttocks, they were fresh, still deep purple and black against his skin, he wondered how much more of him was littered with such markings, but his investigation was brought to an abrupt end as Ichigo turned to face him.

Washing his face with a flannel and soap, Byakuya allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of cleansing the sweat from his skin, and at the very least the heat of the water gave him an excuse for the heady flush now covering his cheeks. In all honesty, it had been some time since he had struggled so hard against someone in the training ring, even if he had eventually come out on top, the thrill of someone so powerful was rare to find now.

He watched under his fringe as Ichigo finally dipped into the water, a moan of delight escaping his Third Seat as his sore muscles were instantly soothed, eyes fluttering shut as he seemed to bask in the warmth.

Time ticked by in silence, neither of them wanting to break it, despite knowing there was good reason to do so. They were watching each other, not to the point of outright staring, but by means of which they both knew that difficult conversation was coming up. Soon.

Throwing the man a cloth to clean himself with, Byakuya allowed his fingers to brush through his own locks of hair, brushing them back off his face as he considered how best to broach the coming topic. He decided being forthright was the only way to go.

“I know you broke into my office, Kurosaki.” He began finally, watching for any outward response to his words, “And I am aware that you were hiding beneath my desk when I returned early with Abarai.”

“Is that so?” Ichigo asked, washing his face nonchalantly, “Do you have any proof of my... Supposed actions?”

“I don't think there is any need to insult my deductive abilities, do you? We are both adults, we are alone here in this bathhouse, no one will hear us.”

“It sounds more like you are propositioning me, than interrogating me.” The strawberry mused with a twitching smirk at his lips.

The noble raised an eyebrow, “Do I have need to 'interrogate' you, Kurosaki?”

“You tell me, Taichou. If you knew I was present in your office, without permission, why did you not call me out? Why did you allow me to leave?” He looked at the man.

“Because Abarai still believes in you.” Byakuya breathed.

“Renji is a fool.” Ichigo muttered, returning to washing as if no longer interested in the conversation.

“He cares about your well being, Ichigo.”

Glancing up again, he was sure that was the first time his Taichou had addressed him so casually, he snorted regardless, “And that is why he is a fool. He cares _so_ much, he can't even see when someone is beyond saving.”

“And are you beyond saving I wonder? He speaks highly of you, all the time. I swear my ears could bleed for all the good things he tells me about you, I wonder just how much he really knows you though. How much of it is fabricated?” The nobleman scanned his face with narrowed eyes, “There is one benefit of him knowing you so well however.”

“Oh? And what is that?” Ichigo sighed, verging on bored.

“He warned me that any smile I ever receive from you would be nothing more than a trickle of the lie you feed everyone every single day.” His head tilted slowly, “I'm sure your lack of emotion makes you a valuable asset to Aizen.”

“I have many qualities, any of which would make me a valuable asset to any Division, Kuchiki Taichou.” The strawberry replied with a snort, running a hand through his hair to brush it back out of his face.

“Not least your ability to fulfil any order, without care of the consequences, or the feelings of guilt that would normally come after.” Byakuya seemed to pause as he mulled over a thought in his mind, frowning faintly, “The perfect weapon.”

“Renji, as far as I know, is unaware of the lengths and depths of my... Emotional problems. So, I assume you worked it out yourself while we were training.” Ichigo leaned back, the picture of relaxed, “You're observant.”

“I wouldn't be where I am today if I was blind, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo refrained from snorting in response, “Is there a point to this inane babble? I was hoping to go and see to my injuries soon.”

“What does Aizen have over you, to make you serve him so willingly?” He pressed.

“I do not serve Aizen Taichou, I serve the Goeti Thirteen.” Was the mechanical response, practised.

“I can taste the lie, Kurosaki.” Formality was back.

“You certainly are tedious.”

“I prefer the term 'persistent' actually.”

Ichigo let out a long breath and glared at the moon overhead, Kuchiki was far more observant than he'd ever imagined, it seemed it was time to rely on his instincts, “Someone like me... Needs a purpose.” He murmured, “I never had one of those in the Academy, and I was pretty pathetic for it. Weak, shy, uncertain... I didn't have a family to go home to at the end of everyday, no one to praise my hard work or determination to succeed against all odds. I lived on the campus, working two jobs in Rukongai to pay for my studies. My only purpose was to survive. Make it from one year to the next... To get one step closer to being in a position where I could find out why I had no memories.”

“No memories?” Byakuya frowned.

The younger man huffed, dropping his head back down and staring at him, eyes intense, “Mm. There's a hole in my memories, a gap that I can't fill. For the longest time, I wanted to join the Goeti Thirteen because... I thought the resources here might help me find out what had happened to me.”

“And now?”

“Now I don't need to worry about it.” He shrugged, “The truth is... The moment I met Aizen, he looked at me like he saw me. Not my hair, not my reiatsu. Me. He saw the deadness in my eyes, when I hid it so well from everyone else. He offered me a position in Division Five the very same day.”

“He gave you a function.” The noble realised, “Something to live for.”

“Yes.”

“Kurosaki, believe me when I tell you this: I _am_ going to get to the bottom of what Aizen is doing, I will find out who his co-conspirators are, and when I do... I plan to kill them with my own hands for their betrayal.” His expression darkened dramatically, “If you stand among them, I will not hesitate to cut you down as well.”

To his surprise, Ichigo broke into a wide grin, it was borderline feral, “Believe me when I tell you this, Byakuya Kuchiki: I'd end you before you drew your blade against him.”

“I see.” The noble closed his eyes and let out a long breath, “We are at an impasse it would seem. I know I must report what I have learnt tonight, however I am certain you would kill me before I left the bath. However, should you kill me Aizen will never know what I have already discovered, and what I may have already passed on to others.”

“I would agree, we are in deadlock.”

“I have an offer for you.” The raven haired male murmured, raising one perfect eyebrow.

“I'm listening.”

Pausing, Byakuya sat a little straighter, “Give me the information I need to take Aizen down, enough to make a solid case against him, and whatever you have done for him so far will be kept out of it entirely. You can remain a free man.”

“No deal.” Ichigo folded his arms.

“Is a purpose really so important to you, that you'd go so far for him.” Byakuya snapped, “What happened to you?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged, “All I have is my work. There's nothing else. Don't think for a moment I feel superior without my ability to feel, because I don't. I feel empty, all the time. The only things that make me feel _anything_ is sex and...”

“And?” Byakuya felt an uncomfortable sensation tickle at the back of his mind as he recalled the bruises he'd seen on the younger man's hips and buttocks, everything starting to click into place. His anger at Aizen increasing only further at the idea that he was taking advantage of the youth in more ways than one.

“And... Fighting.” Ichigo murmured what sounded like a half truth, glancing down as he clenched his fist in the water, “But the feelings don't last, its momentary, then... Nothingness again.”

“Aizen isn't helping you, he's making it worse.” The other tutted, “You need a new purpose.”

“I like what I do.” He muttered.

Byakuya's eyes flashed and he suddenly appeared over Ichigo, a fist in those orange locks, yanking his head back, bringing their faces only a breadth apart, “You don't like or dislike anything though, do you? That is what you were saying.”

“Ah.” He winced at the unexpected aggression, clenching his teeth as he glared up at him, letting out a hiss, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to realise that there is more to you than this. You don't need Aizen. All you have to do is believe in yourself for a change.” He breathed, looking deeply into those chestnut eyes, “You're better than this. Whatever _this_... Is.”

“You don't know me.” Ichigo whispered, “You're a good man, Kuchiki Taichou. But you're heading down a dangerous path. You should make sure you really want this before going any further.”

“Or I'll end up dead?”

“Yes.”

Kuchiki frowned faintly, sure there was an almost saddened expression on Ichigo's face, “Are you sure you don't feel anything? Your face suggest otherwise.”

“It's a practised movement... Aizen said I needed to blend in more with people. Hide the fact I don't feel.” He replied stiffly, “I've been hiding it for years, such responses are practically like breathing.”

“I see.”

The noble allowed his fingers to slide from Ichigo's hair, sitting beside the man instead and considering his options, Ichigo was in danger while he served Aizen, he had no doubt the man would use and abuse him until he ran out of usefulness, but even if he managed to convince him to turn on the treacherous Taichou, he would be even graver danger. But he so desperately needed a breakthrough with this. He knew Aizen was dangerous, he knew there was more going on than could be seen.

So many variables. It was the one thing he disliked about his captaincy. Having to make those choices. The choices between being humane and being efficient. For the greater good of Soul Society, he should wring every drop of information out of Ichigo right then and there where he was exposed and the closest to defenceless he ever was. But would it be more fruitful to allow him to open up in his own time.

The good of many, or the good of one?

“I can't make you do anything,” he said finally, standing and beginning to climb out of the bath, “I can't make you fear me, or fear the outcome of whatever path you are on right now. I can't make you choose between whatever kind of existence you have, and what you could have if you escaped Aizen's clutches. Whether it endangers my own life or not, if you ever need me... I will be here for you.”

Ichigo stared, eyes momentarily following the trickles of water down snowy skin before he rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

Byakuya left him alone, mind wandering. Something monumental would have to happen to make Ichigo change sides, that was now obvious. Maybe if he could uncover what had happened to Ichigo to make him lose his ability to feel, and returned his memories to him it would be enough.

But why was he so invested? It was his duty to report what he had discovered to Division Two. He should have Ichigo hauled away in chains and yet... He couldn't do it. Not yet. Ichigo was young, young enough that _maybe_ he could turn things around. A lifetime in prison would be a waste.

That was, at the very least, what he was telling himself for the time being.

* * *

Ichigo sat bolt upright in bed, heaving for breath as sweat ran down his face and neck, clutching at the bed sheets as his heart hammered against his chest, threatening to burst free. He jumped as he felt a warm hand on his spine and his gaze snapped around, blinking to clear his vision.

“A-Aizen Taichou?” He asked uncertainly, “Ugh... My head is killing me...”

“I am certain your head will not be the only thing hurting today.” A smirk formed on the brunets' lips as he laid back down and continued stroking Ichigo's skin, “You were having a nightmare, it seems.”

Rubbing his eyes restlessly, he turned, looking at the man, “That would make sense but... How did I end up in your bed?”

Aizen chuckled, grabbing a fistful of orange hair as he pinned the younger man beneath his body, “My, my, I'm not sure if I should be insulted that you can forget our encounters so easily.”

“Huh?” Ichigo stuttered out as he looked up at him, no resistance or urge to fight back against his new position.

“You came here late last night, rattled, and reported your conversation with Kuchiki from the bathhouse.” He tilted his head and allowed his lips to roam down the vulnerable neck exposed before him, “It seems he really got under your skin, we went six rounds before you finally passed out. Even I have never seen you quite so agitated.”

Ichigo's eyes fluttered as he felt lips against his skin, gasping and jerking as he was bitten suddenly, feeling teeth sink into his skin, leaving their mark there where it would be visible and obvious, not Aizen's usual style at all, “He's perceptive and knows what buttons to press.”

“Mm, I can imagine. I've worked alongside him for many years, he is as devious as he is proud. Not that he would ever admit to it. Regardless, once you passed out, I decided to break my own rules and allowed you to sleep it off here, instead of sending you back to your own room.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” The brunet said without looking up.

This was unusual behaviour. Ichigo wasn't sure what to make of it, shuddering as he felt the swipe of a tongue against his collarbone, “I should... I should return to Division Six before I am missed.”

“Indeed,” Aizen pulled back slowly, “If Kuchiki corners you again, come to me immediately and report what is said. You are doing well, Ichigo, even if he knows you are working for me he is powerless to act without proof. I am impressed with your work so far, keep it up.”

“Yes, sir.” He swallowed, watching the man get up and head for the bathroom.

Ichigo hesitated momentarily, dragging himself out of bed and groaning at the sharp pain running up and down his legs and his back; he dressed as quickly as his body would allow and left Aizen's quarters.

He was fortunate, it was still early morning and very few people were around to see him sneak back into Division Six. He reached his room swiftly and disappeared inside, locking the door firmly before resting his back against it and staring at his room.

Kuchiki knew he was a traitor, and yet for some strange reason hadn't made a move to kill him, harm him or report him. He'd tried to give him a way out, risking his own safety in the process.

With a jolt, Ichigo felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, _'He knew... He knew I'd go straight to Aizen... He knew I'd tell him everything and he still... He still... Idiot!'_

Storming into his bathroom and yanking his shihakusho off, leaving it in a pile on the floor, he climbed into the shower and allowed the hot water to flood his senses. What was the nobleman thinking? He would get himself killed, he was sure.

Too tired, and too sore to think too much into it, Ichigo washed and longed for his bed. Grateful he had an afternoon shift so he could catch up on some sorely needed sleep. What he didn't need was another nightmare. What had it even been about?

He remembered a man. It wasn't someone he'd met before, at least he didn't think he had. He had been tall, slender. A little out of focus like looking through steamy glass, Ichigo hadn't been able to see his features clearly, but there had been a long trail of white hair. Not like Ukitake Taichou's hair, this was longer, shinier, almost regal.

He couldn't remember anything else. It didn't matter.

Slumping slightly, he allowed his expression to fall blank, he felt unusually tense, and it was utterly unrelated to the stubborn pain in his back. He couldn't believe he'd blacked out like that, to the extent of barely remembering reaching Division Five. Just what state had he been in for Aizen to allow him to sleep in his bed?

It was one of the two unspoken rules of their... Arrangement. One, he was never permitted to remain in Aizen's bed after their encounter concluded. And two, do not fuck anyone else. In all their years spent working together, he'd never broken either of them until now.

Turning the water off sharply, he stepped out of the shower and finally caught a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror in the corner. His eyes widened at the violent array of bruises, bite marks and scratches littering his skin. He didn't remember receiving any of them, except for the deep purple mark on his neck from that very morning.

Ichigo felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He had never protested or refused anything he'd done in the bedroom with Aizen, no matter how intense or perverse it had been. He was no stranger to being tied down, hit, dominated and forced into submission, asphyxiated at the point of orgasm.

He had a tremendous level of trust that Aizen wouldn't harm him in any way that would be lasting. And sex was one of the only things which could ignite any kind of emotions within him, just has he had told Kuchiki. He relished those moments, craved them almost to the point of addiction. Allowing his disconnection from the world to falter in the wake of pleasure and pain, and intolerably intoxicating blend. No one provided it better than Aizen.

But this was different. What was it Aizen had said... Six rounds? Sure enough Ichigo had far more stamina than most but that was a stretch even for him. Swallowing thickly, he turned away from the mirror, hanging his head as he dried off.

Crawling into his own bed, he curled up under the warm covers and tried to sleep. Eyes squeezed tightly shut. A minute ticked by in silence before he cracked his gaze open again and squinted at the photo on his bedside table. That hadn't been there when he'd first investigated his new residence.

Sitting up gingerly, he reached out and plucked the frame from its resting place, eyebrow rising as he saw that it was a picture of Renji; Rukia; Kira; Hinamori and himself all squished together on the day of their graduation. Everyone looked so happy, except for him.

Did he really look _that_ dead everyday? If that scowl was him, supposedly, hiding his lack of emotions he shuddered to imagine what he looked like when he wasn't bothering. Gulping, he put the picture back, he could just about sense a gentle flitter of his new Taichou's reiatsu over it. Where had Byakuya even found it?

He flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, there was so much to think about. He was getting a headache.


	4. Mystery And Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya's search into Ichigo's past has turned up no results so far, but he gets new inspiration when Aizen himself drops some hints.  
> Meanwhile, Ichigo's frustration at a lack of information to report grows and he bumps into someone unexpected.

Ichigo couldn't remember the last time he'd struggled with his own thoughts so much. It had been six weeks since his chat with Kuchiki in the bathhouse, six weeks since he'd woken in Aizen's bed with no recollection of how he had gotten there.

Since the incident in the bathhouse, he and Kuchiki had spoken very little about Aizen, or whatever plans he had. However, they had continued to meet every evening to spar for a few hours at a time, almost always with the same result as their first fight. As soon as Byakuya released his Shikai Ichigo would only last a short time longer before being defeated by the blade like petals of blossom.

It was an incredible defence. One he had yet to work out how to overcome. The only benefit he truly gained, was experience. It was good to fight someone with a different style to Aizen, it gave him new knowledge and fresh ideas to hone his own skills.

Uncertain what to make of his Taichou's sudden silence on anything relating to Aizen, he wondered if the man was making it deliberately impossible for him to gather information to report back. Which was a smart move, but also a very frustrating one.

With the dip in information he gathered, was the result of fewer trips back to Division Five. It had been almost three weeks since he'd seen Aizen, or spoken to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone such an extended period of time without sex, without having that momentary boost to allow him to feel something real. It was becoming tortuously painful, and his own hand never did the job.

But visiting without a good reason would only result in punishment, rather than what he wanted or needed.

Sighing deeply at the thought, Ichigo snapped to attention as he walked into a firm body and bounced back, hitting the wooden floor of the courtyard outside of Division Three. He winced and looked up, momentarily blinded by the mid-day sun directly overhead, raising a hand to shield his gaze he scowled at the person he saw.

Startling blue hair and wide, feral eyes to match.

“Grimmjow... What are you doing here?” He glared.

“Yo, Kurosaki.” The Fourth Seat of Division Three wave a lazy hand, “Eh, don't go givin' me such a scary look, you walked into me remember?”

Tutting, Ichigo picked himself up, dusting his robes down, “I guess. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

Grimmjow had always made him... Unsettled. There was something in those eyes, something wild, something untameable. Something he didn't entirely trust. Gin spoke highly of his skills and various talents, but it did nothing to settle that sensation in the pit of his stomach. While he couldn't deny Grimmjow was... A very attractive man with muscles on muscles, he couldn't shake the feeling that the blue haired Shinigami didn't quite belong there.

“How's Division Six treatin' you?”

He blinked and shook off that feeling again, “Yeah it's fine, I guess.”

“Just fine? Man, I envy you. That Kuchiki Taichou looks like he would be excellent in a fight.” Grimmjow folded his arms, “To think you get to train one on one with him.”

“If you want your ass handed to you, he's the perfect opponent.” The orange haired man chided, turning his back indignantly.

“Still havin' issues with your Bankai then?”

“Huh?” Ichigo looked over his shoulder at the other man, “How do you know that I'm working towards that?”

Wafting a hand with a sheepish grin the other replied, “Eh, Ichimaru Taichou has a big mouth.”

_'Gin?'_ Ichigo frowned deeply, _'Why would Gin be talking to his Fourth Seat about that?'_

* * *

It was strange.

Byakuya didn't like the feeling he was getting as he sifted through the Seireitei Archives for the fourth time in six weeks. He was certain he had checked every file, every scrap of paper, every hidden detail no matter how small. It had taken hours of time, concentration and effort. And yet...

“Nothing...” He whispered to himself, not for the first time.

To his confusion, and to his frustration, he had found nothing at all to help him understand. There were no records, no links... Nothing to suggest what sort of traumatic event had lead to Ichigo's loss of memories, and emotions. But more than that...

He closed his eyes as he ran a hand down his face, tiredness growing in the wake of the long hours he'd spent in the musty smelling room. He glanced down at the file in his hands. It was the Shinigami intake records, the records listed whenever a new Soul was brought to Soul Society. There were thousands, hundreds of thousands, and he had searched them all.

He couldn't couldn't find Ichigo anywhere. There was no mention of an Ichigo Kurosaki ever having been brought to Soul Society by a Shinigami. But there was, in comparison, no record of him having been born there either.

So, where the hell had he come from, and how did he have such immense talent as a Shinigami?

If there were no answers here, could it be that his answers would lie in the World of the Living? It was unlikely, but if he was to succeed in his mission it was imperative that he at least check.

“I did wonder if you'd take an interest in his past.”

Byakuya's eyes narrowed at the voice, turning slowly to meet the object of his ire, “Aizen Taichou.”

“So polite.” The brunet chuckled, eyes flashing behind his spectacles, “Did you find anything interesting? Kuchiki Taichou?”

“I have not.” He replied bluntly, sliding the file back into place before turning to face the man properly, “Why are you here? Making sure I don't find anything?”

“On the contrary, I thought this would provide us the opportunity to talk. Something we have not done, outside of captain meetings.” Aizen chuckled, leaning against one of the shelving units, clearly relaxed, “You are aware, of course, that Ichigo told me everything about the conversation you had the other week?”

“Naturally.”

“Doesn't that worry you?”

Byakuya's lips thinned, “Why would it? Even you couldn't get away with murdering a Taichou.”

Aizen raised an eyebrow in amusement, “You seem to believe I am capable of getting away with far worse than that... How are your investigations going?”

“Such arrogance.” He muttered, “If you were able to get away with it, surely you would have done so already. Considering we are both aware that I am onto your ploy.”

Rather than reply straight away, Aizen took a few measured steps towards the noble, only stopping when they were less than a hair's breadth apart, his eyes moved over the raven haired man, seemingly calculating his response very carefully.

“I require your help, believe it or not.” He said after a long, tense moment.

“My help?” Byakuya hissed sceptically.

“Ichigo... Is incredibly special. He is powerful, gifted, loyal and more than anything else... He is an incredibly useful tool. But I believe even he would disobey me if I ordered him to kill you, in his current state at least. No matter what he says to the contrary.”

“You talk about him like he's a thing. Not a person. It's disgusting.” The noble's teeth clenched painfully with the effort to maintain his stoicism, then he paused, “Order him to kill me? He's no assassin.”

Aizen simply smiled, “My, my... You forget too quickly how coincidental it was for Ichigo to become your Third Seat.”

Byakuya's face dropped and his eyes widened at the implication. It couldn't be... Surely not, “You lie.” He breathed.

“Your face tells me you know otherwise.” Aizen smirked widely, “Did he feign innocence with you? Side step your questions? Give you just enough information to keep you happy before shutting down again?”

His mouth went dry. Had Ichigo played him?

“My goodness... Byakuya Kuchiki tricked by a mere scrap of a soul. How does your precious pride feel, knowing that?”

The noble felt a rush of fury at the other's mockery of him, hand snapping up sharply against the other man's face, expression barely masking his rage, “One such as yourself, who lacks all honour, would never understand my pride. Do not act like you do.”

Aizen had barely flinched from the slap, head only slightly turned, he glanced down at the other man, smile gone. His hand wrapped around the noble's wrist tightly and he turned him, forcing him against one of the nearby desks as he allowed a ripple of his reiatsu to flow, crushing the raven haired male with its weight.

Byakuya's eyes were wide as he gasped for breath, his chest feeling tight. When had Aizen become so strong? He'd never felt his aura be quite so... Oppressive. Was it another ruse, something he had been hiding... All this time?

“Ichigo could be so much more than he already is. He has so much potential yet to unlock.” The brunet breathed against his ear, “Whether willingly or not, you are going to help me, and we will ensure he reaches his peak.”

“I... Will not!” He growled, struggling to speak under that terrible pressure.

“You will.” He chuckled humourlessly, “If you want real answers to who he is, where he comes from and what happened to him... I suggest you take a visit to the World of the Living. There is a town, called Karakura.”

Lowering his reiatsu again, Aizen released the noble and brushed his hands clean, as if somehow tainted by the other man's pride.

“Why would you give me such information?” Byakuya hissed, turning to face him slowly as he rubbed his wrist.

“Because, you want to know who he is. And I want him to grow.” The brunet tilted his head, “And it is all connected.”

The Division Six Taichou tutted, clenching a fist at his side, “I will save Ichigo from your clutches, on my pride as the head of the Kuchiki household, I will do it.” The words tumbled from his lips before his mind processed them, and yet he knew they were true. He couldn't allow this man, this filth to continue abusing his subordinates.

His words seemed to entertain Aizen, who allowed a smug chuckle to escape his lips, turning slowly towards the exit, “Eventually, no matter how long it takes, you will do something that will make him turn on you. You will hurt him, and it will scar.”

“You...” Byakuya's hand came to rest on the hilt of his Zanpakutō, the urge to attack the man hard to resist, but the choice was taken out of his hands as his fellow Taichou disappeared in a flash of Shunpo.

* * *

Ichigo sighed and finishing off his remaining paperwork, rocking on the back legs of his chair as he stared out of the window, being a Third Seat was far less exciting than he'd first imagined. Nothing really happened that required his involvement, save for if things go too heated in the training ring between some of Division Six's Shinigami. He'd waded in more than once to break up a training session gone wrong.

Working with Aizen, he'd always been doing something. It was besides the point, that half of that had been extra curricular to his actual duties, it had kept him active; interested and it had kept his senses sharp.

His eyebrows raised slightly as a Hell Butterfly fluttered through the open window, and he held out his finger for it to perch on, listening to its message curiously. Kuchiki Taichou was summoning him to his office. It sounded serious, had the man finally decided to try and question him further about his involvement with Aizen?

Mind momentarily drifting back to his earlier conversation with Grimmjow, Ichigo frowned slightly and got to his feet, slinging his Zanpakutō over his back. He locked the door on his way out and walked the short distance to his Taichou's office, he could already sense his reiatsu coming from inside. It was surprising how quickly he had familiarised himself with the nobleman's reiatsu, had he not it would still be almost impossible to sense him without concentrating.

He knocked curtly, entering when he was called, Ichigo found Byakuya stood in front of two empty Gigai, he slid the door shut behind himself and padded further into the room, “Taichou, you requested my presence?”

“Yes...” The noble refused to turn around and face him, inhaling softly as he considered how to deal with the implications Aizen had made about Ichigo.

“Is there a problem?”

Turning sharply, Byakuya shook his head, “No. However, I have a mission in the World of the Living and I request you join me for it. We will be using these Gigai. Prepare yourself, we leave in five minutes.”

“The World of the Living?” Ichigo repeated, bemused by the turn of events.

“That is correct.”

The strawberry haired male swallowed hard, five minutes wasn't enough time for him to inform Aizen of this development, and he was sure his Taichou knew that. Clenching his teeth, Ichigo walked forwards and examined the Gigai he would be using, he'd never been in one before. Rukia and Renji both described a feeling of overwhelming tightness and reduced flexibility, which lessened with time, but was never truly gone.

He looked sideways, “Why me, and not Renji?”

“Because that is my order.” The man replied coldly, refusing to even return his glance.

Ichigo hesitated at the man's behaviour towards him, and truly began to wonder what had happened to create such a shift. Even after their talk in the bathhouse, the suggestion that he was a traitor working for Aizen, they'd talked normally everyday, without tension and without aggravation. But now... He was dealing with the renown cold shoulder of Byakuya Kuchiki.

He had a bad feeling about this mission.


	5. Karakura Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya and Ichigo venture to the World of the Living, it should be a straight forward mission but almost as soon as they exit the Senkaimon Ichigo can feel that something just isn't right.

Rukia and Renji's description of what a Gigai felt like was vastly more accurate than Ichigo was happy with, he'd never felt so trapped in his life, it was unbelievably tight, restrictive, suffocating and felt at least three inches too short for his body, and that was before he even started to sense the repression of the majority of his reiatsu.

Rolling his muscles, not for the first time, since arriving in the World of the Living, he walked down the street alongside his Taichou in silence. They hadn't spoken a word since before he'd entered his Gigai. It was awkward, uncomfortable. He didn't dare ask what their mission was, through the discontented idea at receiving the same seethingly cold response.

Karakura was a large town, with a marginally normal population. There was a weak Hollow presence, low level and low threat, nothing to get excited over, though it suggested to him that there must have been at least a small spattering of Humans with higher than average reiatsu.

They walked for what felt like ages, though he was certain it was mostly related to the faux body, passing shops and cafes, car parks, even a large school. Ichigo looked around with interest, never having been to the World of the Living before, it all looked so different to Soul Society, so modern and flash.

“Taichou?” He finally asked, looking at the man.

“Yes?”

“What are we doing here?” The Third Seat's head tilted, genuine curiosity seeping into his voice.

Byakuya hesitated, glancing over at him and gritting his teeth until it hurt, he let out a long breath through his nose and forced himself to relax, “I received word about some important information in the town... We are here to retrieve it.”

“Information?” Ichigo repeated, glancing around again, “About Aizen Taichou?”

“Not this time.” He murmured.

He wasn't sure whether he was pleased about that, or not. At the very least, if it had been about Aizen he would have been able to report back to him upon their return, yet if it was unrelated he would return empty handed. Aizen wasn't the most patient of people.

What was more troubling, was that Ichigo was beginning to feel like he was being watched. It had been subtle at first, starting not long after their arrival, but the feeling was growing more and more intense the longer they wandered around. He couldn't sense a specific aura following him, nor could he see anyone who was obviously watching. He wondered if his Taichou had noticed the feeling as well.

Alarm bells were ringing, blaring even.

His back stiffened suddenly and he twisted on the spot, looking back the way they had come tensely, squinting through the crowd of people. None of the faces were recognisable to him, none of them seemed overly suspicious. But that feeling was still there. Eyes were on him.

“Kurosaki?” Byakuya raised one perfect eyebrow, confused as to why his Third Seat had stopped so suddenly.

“Can't you feel it?” He breathed, eyes narrowed.

“Feel... What?”

Disbelief swept his expression, he broke his gaze from its search to look at the noble instead, “We're not alone. Someone has been watching us since we arrived.”

Byakuya frowned, he had sensed no such presence, and to him at least it made little sense as to why his subordinate would have been able to do so in his stead. Nevertheless, he could see that Ichigo was serious, he could sense something.

Glancing around swiftly as well, he reached out with his reiatsu, making a sweep of the area. He still came up sensing nothing out of the ordinary.

“Let us continue, we can do nothing until they make themselves known.” The Taichou murmured, gripping Ichigo's shoulder firmly and spinning him back around, “We are not far from our destination.”

The only comforting thing about their current situation, was that his Taichou had unintentionally dropped the majority of his coldness in the wake of him mentioning being watched. Ichigo was uncertain if it was because Byakuya could sense it too, or because more worryingly, he couldn't.

Their destination came into view, a large central town library, Ichigo found himself feeling all the more confused as to the purpose of their visit, but remained silent on the matter, constantly and burningly aware of the eyes boring into his skull.

“I want you to wait here and keep an eye out. If you see anything amiss come and get me.” The Taichou said as they reached the entrance.

“Eh? Are you sure?” Ichigo frowned, not keen on the idea.

“Perfectly sure.” Byakuya said a little more firmly, “Stay here.”

The strawberry haired Shinigami watched reluctantly as the nobleman disappeared inside the public library, wondering again what sort of information they were here for. It seemed like a strange mission.

The haired on the back of his neck stood on end abruptly and he looked back out into the street, a chill running up his spine. Something was really wrong.

* * *

“Hm, how odd.” Aizen murmured to himself, unable to sense Ichigo's reiatsu anywhere in Soul Society. He couldn't help but be curious as to where the young man had disappeared to, especially without informing him first.

Striding down the wooden walkways past Division Six, he smiled warmly at the Shinigami he came across, his kindly mask was as easy to pull on as it was to take back off. But it was an essential part of his plan to remain believable till the very last moment.

“Ah, Abarai Fukutaichou!” He called out, he didn't care if the man was as suspicious of him as his Taichou was. While they were out in the open, they had to act like allies.

“Uh...” The redhead swallowed hard, staring back at his old Taichou, “Aizen Taichou...”

“A lovely day, isn't it?” He came to a stop in front of the younger man.

“Yes... Very nice.” Renji replied stiffly, unable to break eye contact with the man, “Is there something I can assist you with? You look... Puzzled.”

“As it happens...” Aizen tilted his head, “I was looking for Kurosaki-san, you see one of my subordinates found some of his possessions in his old room, I was hoping he would be available to collect them.”

The movement of Renji's Adam's apple was apparent as he gulped in response to the question, staring up at Aizen with clear tension, “I-I'm afraid he won't be able to do that today, Taichou. Ichigo is... On a mission.”

“A mission?” The brunet pressed, eyes narrowing only very slightly, far too little for the other man to notice.

“Yes... He went with Kuchiki Taichou to the World of the Living.”

“He did what?” Aizen breathed, his eyes widening sharply behind those lenses, almost dropping his facade completely.

* * *

Grunting softly, Ichigo clenched his fists, he felt tension coil in his muscles, making it even harder to move within the damned faux body. He felt himself panting softly, unable to understand why it had suddenly become so much harder to breathe. He'd been doing fine.

Blinking suddenly, he found it increasingly hard to keep his eyes open, a fog settling in his mind, making his thoughts slow and incoherent. He staggered, using the wall for support, blinking hard and repeatedly, trying to clear the feeling.

What was going on?

In the back of his mind, he knew he should seek out Byakuya, and tell him what was happening. But his legs just wouldn't move. It was as if his entire body was turning to stone.

Then, it finally happened.

The reiatsu to match the feeling of being watched. It was close, impossibly close. Above?

His eyes shot skyward, and without a doubt he saw someone above the city. Squinting, he tried to make out their features, but they were simply too far away, but he knew there was something not right about them, their reiatsu was all off. It didn't feel normal. It wasn't a Shinigami.

It vanished, faster than his eyes could follow, faster than Byakuya's Shunpo. Lurching back as he felt that sudden, overwhelming aura right in front of him, his eyes snapped ahead and he came face to face with someone... Something, he had never seen before.

Humanoid in appearance, appearing to be male, his hair was jet black, shoulder length and partially concealed by what looked like half a helmet, dead green eyes were framed by thick lashes, while sea green lines appeared to trail down his cheeks like tears.

Ichigo recoiled, there was something unnatural about the man in front of him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. His eyes were drawn to that helmet shaped structure on the side of his head and with a thick gulp he realised it was bone.

“Who are you?” He breathed.

The man blinked once at the question, “My name is of no importance to the likes of you.”

“Wow, rude huh?” Ichigo made a displeased face.

“You need not worry, I will make your death swift, Byakuya Kuchiki.”

Ichigo's eyes widened as he saw the man's pale hand flash to the blade at his side, the movement was so fast he didn't have time to tell him that he wasn't Byakuya, and was forced to dart to the side as the blade arced up towards him from its sheath.

Gasping at the man's speed, he was forced to duck again, narrowly missing being decapitated. Digging a hand in his pocket sharply, Ichigo grabbed his Gikon, shoving the small green candy into his mouth as fast as he could.

Shinigami form bursting forth from the Gigai, he ordered it to go and find his Taichou, letting out a shout of surprise as he was attacked again, darting around quickly to try and avoid the impossibly quick slashes of the other man's sword.

This... This was nothing like training.

He drew his Zanpakutō, just in the nick of time, putting the huge blade between himself and certain death. Grunting as the impact sent him to his knees. He looked up into the stranger's eyes, there was nothing there. No emotion. Just emptiness.

_'Is that what I look like?'_ He wondered.

A kick to his ribs sent him flying, crashing hard onto the ground and coughing sharply, eyes widening as he was pursued with an apparent disregard for anything around them. All he could do was fend off his attacker, meeting his strikes and arcs with his own sword to deflect them, he simply wasn't fast enough to retaliate.

He had no idea what this creature was, but it was powerful. The eyes which had been watching him all day where right there before him, orbs of blank jade, unfeeling and uncaring. Though, the longer he looked at them, the more he was sure he could see _something_ within, what was it? It looked like hatred. Loathing. What a sight.

The sting of metal against his ribs brought him back from his thoughts, staggering as he held his side, blood seeping through his robes. He could feel that the cut wasn't too deep, but it was long. Ichigo winced, teeth clenched, he could feel their power difference. It was crushingly strong.

This creature, whatever he was, was unbelievably powerful, his reiatsu dense and carrying a gripping sense of death within its bowels, the stench of a thousand years of fear rippled over Ichigo. Were he anyone else, it would have terrified him. Perhaps it was a good thing he had stayed outside after all.

“Do they not teach you manners where you come from?” He hissed, “It's polite to tell someone your name before declaring that you are going to kill them.”

The green eyed demon seemed surprised for a moment, before his frown returned, “If it means so much to you... I shall tell you. My name is Ulquiorra Cifer.”

He paused as he took in the man's appearance again, eyes lingering on the bone structure atop his head, his brain going into overdrive. The strawberry haired Shinigami froze, sword lowering slightly in light of his realisation.

“You... You are...” He felt his mouth dry, “An Arrancar...”

“Correct.” Was the only reply he received.

Ulquiorra vanished from his sight, leaving Ichigo reeling, looking around urgently for him before he let out a cry of pain, feeling a blade slice up his back roughly. He lurched forwards, hitting the ground and scrambling back to his feet, nearly falling again as pain rippled up and down his spine.

He barely had a second to right himself before the Arrancar appeared again, sword coming straight towards his exposed neck, Ichigo's eyes widening as he realised he would never be able to block it in time.

“Scatter, Senbonzakura.”

A dense webbing of pink petals stormed their way between Ichigo and his on coming demise, deflecting the blow which would have killed him. His gaze shot around and he saw Byakuya, in his Shinigami form, hilt of his Zanpakutō outstretched. Ichigo had never been so glad to see the man before in his life.

Ulquiorra, however, looked far less pleased, eyes narrowed as he withdrew his blade from the mass of flowers, gaze focusing on the raven haired male, and then flicking back to the injured Shinigami on the floor.

“Kurosaki, are you alright?” Byakuya asked, eyes never leaving the Arrancar.

“Y-Yeah... I think so...” He answered, slowly getting to his feet and backing up, back pulsing with discomfort, he glanced at his Taichou, “He's fast.”

“I saw.” Was the simple statement, “Arrancar always are.”

“Kurosaki?” Ulquiorra interrupted them sharply, looking at Ichigo, “Your name is... Kurosaki?”

“Yes! And I would have told you that if you hadn't tried to kill me without asking!” He hissed, clenching a fist before he faltered, suddenly realising what that meant.

“Mm. Then I attacked the wrong person. That was clumsy of me.” The dark haired Hollow shot towards Byakuya without warning.

The Taichou tutted, re-summoning Senbonzakura in one swift motion and using his blade to deflect the on coming blow. Ichigo had to duck out of the way as he was nearly hit in the crossfire, darting out of the way as the pair began clashing violently. He watched Byakuya with amazement, he was able to keep up with the Arrancar's movements far easier than he had been able to, though gaining a few shallow cuts, he could clearly see through the Hollow's speed.

Wincing, Ichigo leaned heavily against the wall, certain that he would only be a hindrance if he tried to fight before he recovered at least a little. He let out a weak groan, his legs shaking at the pain from his back wound.

Not for the first time that day, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and with a gasp, he threw himself forwards, skidding across the floor just in time to avoid being struck by the massive fist of a second Arrancar. Ichigo felt his palms scorch with heat as they dragged across the tarmac, he felt tiny sharp stings, cuts opening on the soft skin.

“Shit!” He swore loudly, lifting his sword.

This Arrancar was enormous, with tanned skin and a powerful build, his cranium seemed lined with strange ridges. His jaw was encompassed by a similar bone structure to Ulquiorra's. Greedy brown eyes looked down at him, red markings visible beneath them.

“Ichigo!” He heard Byakuya shout before he felt another back press against his own, realising it was his Taichou.

“Don't worry about me.” He replied, eyebrow raised as he scanned the big Hollow before him, “How are you holding up?”

“You have the nerve to worry about my safety, in your position?” The Taichou half snarled, however Ichigo was certain he heard a touch of amusement hidden under that automatic response.

“Heh... Well, I guess you have a point.” He mused.

Things didn't look good. They were pinned between the two Arrancar, without any means of backup. Ichigo let out a long breath and considered his own options, dying here wasn't really part of the plan, his plan or Aizen's plan for that matter.

On the one hand, he could make a run for it, leave his Taichou behind and unintentionally lead to his death. But then, on the alternative, he could stay, he could fight, and then they'd probably both die.

“Tell me honestly, Ichigo, are these Arrancar in anyway related to Aizen?” The raven haired noble asked, sparing a small glance at him.

“Eh?” He met his gaze and paused, “On my life, I don't know. Why do you ask?”

Foolish or not, Byakuya believed him before puffing out a breath, “Arrancar are incredibly rare. The amount of reiatsu a Hollow must possess to even stand a chance of becoming one is... Immense.”

“Agreed.” He murmured, “Too much of a coincidence to find two together, right? That worries me.”

“Worries you?” The Taichou repeated, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

Ichigo chuckled softly, “Just a turn of phrase, I assure you. I'm as calm as ever.”

The Taichou appraised their chances of getting out of this alive, eyes trained on the pale Hollow in front of him, thinking over their options, “How well can you fight with those injuries?”

“Well...” The Third Seat began, “There might be something I haven't told you.”

Kuchiki's eyes narrowed slightly, he was sure there were a great many things Ichigo had so far failed to tell him, things which he was undoubtedly certain he might never learn at all. Ichigo was an enigma of hidden depths, that he knew.

“Well, what is it?” He pressed, watching the pale Arrancar drawing closer.

Lips twitching slightly as he loosened the sash around his waist, allowing his robes to flutter free in the breeze, “I heal vastly quicker than most Shinigami.” He threw a thumb towards his back as the wind caught his robes again and lifted them.

Byakuya looked around in time to see the bared flesh of the other man's back, eyes widening as he saw the horrific wound had already stopped bleeding, “How...” He breathed.

“No clue. But I've always been the same!” His voice hitched slightly with the thrill of their situation, lifting his Zanpakutō a touch higher.

“Our only hope of getting out of this, is to work together, I suggest that we-”

“Say,” Ichigo interrupted him bluntly, head tilting slightly as he observed the huge mass of Hollow moving his way, “I have a favour to ask you.”

“A... Favour?”

“Yeah... It's not gonna be an easy one for you either. Especially with our current... Personal conflicts.” Ichigo clenched his jaw tightly.

The Taichou hesitated and then sighed as he was forced to remember the turmoil between them, “What is it?”

“Do you think that... At least for a minute... You could trust me?”

That had not been what Byakuya had expected and he nearly turned around to look at the younger man in disbelief, though that would have been foolish in their present predicament. He faltered slightly as he considered the question, wonder where it had come from, what had prompted it. There had been no trace of humour in Ichigo's voice, he was serious.

Could he trust him? Even for a moment? What was the younger man planning that would require such a thing?

Closing his eyes, Byakuya released some of the tension he was carrying, and swiftly lifted his gaze again, “Yes.”

“Mm? That's a relief.” Ichigo pulled a face and then lifted his giant sword above his head, straight up towards the sky, “When the moment is right, please be sure to move, Kuchiki Taichou.”

The noble's spine went rigid in the wake of his words, feeling the abrupt elevation of the man's reiatsu, it was tempestuous and wild, much like the man it was coming from, his gaze was drawn by the vivid illumination behind him, and he dared himself to steal a glance. His breath was stolen by what he saw.

Ichigo was stood tall and proud, sword lifted high as he focused every ounce of his power, brilliant blue reiatsu swirling around him violently, channelling from the very soles of his feet, to the very tip of his blade. His usually chestnut eyes were alive with something, the first time Byakuya had witnessed anything within those orbs, other than disconnection and disinterest.

That was right wasn't it? Ichigo had told him before. He was only capable of feeling anything when he was having sex... Or when he was fighting. Was this Ichigo's resolve to defeat his enemy? His will to kill?

It was terrifying.

“The enemy is one, and you are one. Cast off your fear. Look forward! Go forward! Never stand still. Retreat and you will age. Hesitate and you will... Die!” Ichigo recited the words he knew so well, the wisdom contained within the soul of his Zanpakutō.

Byakuya's eyes widened as Ichigo moved, his Shunpo was visible to his trained eyes but he had to acknowledge that it was far swifter than it had ever been during their training sessions. The spike of his reiatsu was phenomenal, sharper; crisper than before.

Ichigo appeared in front of the large Arrancar, eyes narrowing as he brought his blade down in a almighty arc, a single shout leaving his lips as he released the energy he had been storing, “Getsuga Tenshou!”

The dense wave of power lashed out obediently, making impact with the body before him, he pushed harder, with all his might, letting out a roar as he pushed his reiatsu even higher, watching as the arc of light carved its way clean through the Hollow's chest.

Without warning, Ichigo twisted on the spot, planting his feet in the face of the Arrancar he had injured, using the momentum he had built to shoot back towards Byakuya, and the Arrancar behind him, sword already charged for another blast.

The Taichou's eyes widened as he momentarily lost sight of Ichigo, his breath hitching as he saw that flurry of strawberry hair heading directly towards him, sword raised, resolve to kill in his eyes. Shooting to the side, the noble felt the burn of his energy against his cheek, spinning on the spot to witness the moment of impact.

The explosion was earth shattering, and the Division Six Taichou found himself knocked clean off his feet, slamming into a wall sharply and sliding down it, dazed as he witnessed the tendrils of smoke clear from the epitome.

Ichigo stood over the crumpled form of the second Arrancar, he was heaving for breath, sweat rolling freely down his face and chest as he staggered on the spot. Ichigo's vision pulsated, twirled and blackened, he found himself glancing briefly towards his Taichou. Taking a single staggering step towards the raven haired man, he drove his blade into the ground and hunched over it, knees shaking as he sank to the ground.

A long, grim wound slowly edged up his chest, reaching his shoulder before it split, splattering the floor with his blood. Unable to keep his eyes open for a moment longer, Ichigo fell forwards, hands slipping from the hilt of his sword, crashing against the ground heavily, gaze unfocused and distant for a whole new reason.

Byakuya let out a quiet groan, wincing as he picked himself up, holding his ribs as he detected broken bones, the pain faded from his mind as soon as he saw Ichigo hit the ground. Worry tingling across his face at all the blood pooling around the younger man, he hurried forwards, dropping to his knees beside him and gently rolling him onto his back, gasping at the ugly carving in his chest.

Had he and the Hollow struck each other at the same time?

“Ichigo?” He swallowed hard, resting a hand gently over his chest, feeling a very shallow breath being taken, “So you are alive. Thank the Soul King.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Byakuya then turned his attention towards the two Arrancar, neither were dead, but they were severely injured, and that alone terrified him. What was Ichigo? To summon such strength, seemingly by instinct alone... His reiatsu had been utterly overpowering, easily on par with a Fukutaichou. But now it was dwindling back to its usual restraints, as if there had never been any change at all.

His disbelief only grew as he saw what appeared to be finger-like tickles of steam started to rise from the younger man's chest, and a brief flare of his reiatsu resulted in an impossible halt to his blood loss, “Ichigo Kurosaki... Just what are you?”


	6. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's victory in Karakura town has the Goeti Thirteen confused and astounded, but for Aizen it's merely a confirmation of his subordinate's potential.

Aizen stood silently at the base of Ichigo's bed, arms folded tightly across his chest as he watched over the sleeping strawberry, still not sure what to make of the rumours he'd been hearing about the youths' visit to the World of the Living.

It had been two days since Kuchiki had stumbled through the Senkaimon, looking distinctly worse for wear, and carrying the badly battered body of Ichigo Kurosaki. The fantastical report of two Arrancar in Karakura town had appeared quite unbelievable in the eyes of most of the Taichou at first, until testing of the pairs' Gigai had revealed an extensive record of the entire event, from start to finish.

The Division Five Taichou didn't need to see it to know that Kuchiki had been speaking the truth, however the recording of the fight had been valuable, only certifying his belief in Ichigo's potential. There was mass confusion among the other Taichou, none of them able to understand how a mere Third Seat had managed to overpower two Arrancar and survive the encounter, even Byakuya couldn't comprehend it and he had been present.

What truly impressed Aizen, however, was how fast Ichigo healed. It was a trick even he had been kept in the dark about, and yet, stood before the younger man now he could see the truth of it. Any normal Shinigami would take weeks to recover the kind of wounds he had sustained, and yet Ichigo was mending quickly and efficiently. Thick bandages wound around his chest and back and there was a faint darkness showing through but according to what he'd heard the wounds had gone from being deep to shallow in hours.

His mind was alight with possibilities. Seeing him with his own two eyes confirmed many things already, but there was so much more to learn, to understand. Things which could only be discerned by talking to him, or fighting him.

According to the notes fastened to the end of the bed, Ichigo hadn't woken yet. Slumbering deeply to aid his body in healing.

Taking careful steps, the brunet Taichou approached the side of the bed, tilting his head as he observed the sleeping man, there was something truly captivating about his appearance, something that Aizen had never been able to put his finger on. It had always been there right from the first moment he'd laid eyes on him, and every time after that. Ichigo's time as a Shino student had been an eye opener, even for him.

_The nostalgia of the school was weighty against his senses, passing rooms he had once tutored in. Seeing the clamour of the next generation he couldn't help but turn his distaste inwards to prevent it showing on his features. Students. He'd loathed every second of his time as a teacher, lecturing insects who would never amount to anything close to his strength. He'd been unable to see the point. But it had been important to maintain this growing image he portrayed._

_He was Sōsuke Aizen: kind, welcoming, always willing to listen, always willing to help._

_If only they knew the truth._

_His current visit had, blissfully, been a short one. Merely dropping some documents into the offices of the teachers before beating a hasty retreat, offering smiles and small waves to some of the students who recognised him._

_Breaking free through one of the back exits, Aizen inhaled deeply, looking up at the setting sun, it was already late. Allowing his muscles to relax slightly, ears pricking as he heard yelling from just around the corner._

_Curiosity creeping in, he chose to investigate the source of the noise, silently turning the corner of the academy building and raising an eyebrow at the sight before him._

_Five tall, strong looking male students were huddled in a ring, spitting profanities at someone he couldn't see; the language they were using was truly vile, not to mention excessive. He overheard something about 'showing off all the time' before a blade was flourished by one of the gang._

_Aizen began walking forwards hurriedly, he couldn't stand by and allow a senseless act of violence like this, someone could get serious hurt, and if it was discovered he had been present and done nothing... Well people would begin to question him. He prepared to raise his reiatsu, to crush them to the floor and reprimand them severely._

_A fist shot up from the centre of the huddle of boys, striking one firmly in the jaw before there was a collective gasp as a surprisingly prominent level of reiatsu erupted from the mass._

“ _If I cared what you bastards thought, I'd have dyed it black by now! Idiots!” A voice hollered._

_There was a commotion, it was violent and bloody, and over incredibly fast. From the midst of the gang of boys, sprang an orange haired student, face set like stone as he flipped from left to right, dodging and ducking the hits that were thrown his way, before returning them with his own. Except his always landed on target._

“ _Tch, is this really the best you can do after two years.” The student brushed his hands, clearly disinterested by the entire affair._

_The orange haired youth's eyes moved to the gang leader, he was staggering to his feet and still clutching that knife in his hand, he was fast and lunged forwards, aiming the blade for the student's face._

_Aizen watched with interest as the orange haired boy's expression refused to change, even as the blade made contact and cut a deep groove into his cheek, those chestnut coloured eyes merely stared down at the attacker, devoid of anything._

_Gaze moving to the side as he swiped his cheek, seeing the blood on his fingers he released a long sigh, “You could have killed me with that attack, and instead you opt to try and scar me... Are you really as stupid as you look?”_

_One palm slam to the chest was all it took and the gang leader was unconscious with the rest of his minions._

_The orange haired student looked up suddenly, as if realising Aizen was there, “Thanks for stepping in and helping, I'm so grateful.”_

_Aizen was surprised, the young man seemed completely oblivious to his status, at least if the sarcasm dripping from his tone was anything to go by, “It appeared you had it all in hand, I wouldn't wish to interfere with a matter of one's pride.”_

_He felt chestnut eyes moving over him curiously before some recognition seemed to form in those dead eyes._

“ _You're... Division Five's Taichou, right? Sōsuke Aizen?” The student asked, walking over slowly._

“ _You appear to have me at a disadvantage.” He smiled._

_An eyebrow lifted in response, “I'm Kurosaki. Ichigo Kurosaki.”_

Aizen chuckled at his own nostalgia, leaning down slowly and brushing his lips against his subordinate's ear, “You had best wake up soon, or else I will be forced to punish you for your laziness.”

He allowed himself the privilege of running his lips against Ichigo's, leaving the faintest of kisses in place before standing back up. Aizen sensed the approaching reiatsu of his subordinate's current Taichou and swiftly departed, not wishing to enter a verbal debate with the man at the present moment.

The Taichou paused on the walk way between Division Four and Division Five, tilting his head slightly, “Are you trying to sneak up on me, Gin?”

“Eh! Aizen Taichou, how do ya always know?” The silver haired fox pouted, revealing himself from his hiding place in the shadows.

“It is my job to know.” He answered humourlessly, walking along side the other Taichou, “What do you want?”

“I was curious about how Ichi-Berry is doing, he was so beaten up when Kuchiki brought him back...” The Third Division Taichou mused thoughtfully, “Eh, I can't believe Ulquiorra messed up so bad...”

“Silence.” Aizen hissed, shooting a stern glare at his comrade, “You should know better than to be so lax, anyone could be listening.”

“My, my ya seem cross.”

Growling under his breath, the brunet clenched a fist at his side, “As you said... Things did not go according to plan.”

The brunet ground his teeth very slightly, maintaining a smile on the outside as they passed his subordinates, oh how he was going to make Yammy and Ulquiorra pay for their mistake.

* * *

Ichigo groaned roughly, wincing at the too bright light that was shining indignantly in his face; he tried to turn away from it but was unable to as the light simply followed his movements. Growing frustrated, he cracked his eyes open, squinting at the annoying little ball of illumination.

It took him several seconds to realise it was the light from a torch, which was being held by Retsu Unohana. His eyes widened considerably as he was greeted with her famous smile and he instantly wished the world would swallow him whole to escape that expression on her face.

“U-Unohana Taichou!” He exclaimed, swallowing hard and watching as she stepped back, pocketing the torch she had been using, he blinked a couple of times, glancing around at the sterile room he was in, “This is...”

“Division Four, Kurosaki-san.” She finished for him, “Welcome back.”

“I... Thank you.” He sat up carefully, gasping at the dull ache in his chest, he reached up and touched the bandages wound around his torso gingerly, memories flooding back as to where his injuries had come from, “Kuchiki Taichou! Is he... Was he...”

“He is fine.” The healer replied, “You did your duty well, and protected your Taichou at the risk of your own life. Everyone is incredibly impressed.”

“They... Are?” He looked up at her, trying to shake off the smallest pang of relief that the nobleman was safe, “I just... Did what anyone would do...”

“Defeating two Arrancar is hardly what anyone would do.” Unohana scolded him, walking around the bed and making her way to the door, “You have some visitors, would you like to see them?”

“Visitors?” He raised an eyebrow, that was unexpected, “Sure... Thank you...”

She nodded once and disappeared, leaving him alone in the room. He slumped back against the pillows, hand still resting on his chest. He couldn't believe he'd managed to defeat those Hollows, much less protect his Taichou. It only occurred to him now, when the adrenaline was gone and the situation was over, that it had in fact been his first reaction... To protect the noble. All he could think of, was getting them both out of that... Mess.

Sure, he had considered making a run for it, leaving Byakuya behind to suffer whatever fate was to befall him, but when it had actually come down to it he had realised he couldn't do it. He couldn't abandon him. He hadn't even considered that Byakuya's death would have solved every problem Aizen currently had, it had just been... Instinct, to protect him. He wasn't sure how to react to that. It unsettled him.

Eyes lifted as he heard the door open, and an expression of surprise etched itself onto his face as Rukia, Renji and Byakuya Kuchiki himself entered the room. He was distantly aware of Rukia and Renji talking animatedly to him, wanting to know how he was feeling and if he was going to be released soon, wanting to know all the details about the fight from his perspective to see if it matched with what they were already aware of.

But despite the noise they were making, he found his gaze fixed well and truly on the noble stood at the end of his bed, swallowing thickly as he saw the protective gauze on his right cheek, apparently the only visible injury the man had. He looked fine otherwise, standing tall and proud, silent as he normally was when others were talking. But even then, those steel grey eyes met Ichigo's chestnut ones, and there was an unexpected warmth there, warmth he'd never expected to see from the nobleman.

He knew what it meant, he could almost taste it in the air. That silent word of gratitude. Ichigo could have sworn he saw the smallest of smiles before the noble inclined his head, leaving the room once more, apparently having done what he'd intended.

His eyes followed the noble the entire way, right up until the door slid shut behind his body and sealed him in the room with Rukia and Renji, neither of whom had realised his distracted state.

Ichigo sat back carefully, letting his shoulders slump as a soft sigh escaped him, his lips twitching upwards in a rare hint of a smile, before he finally paid attention to his two friends and began answering their questions.

_'You don't need to thank me Taichou,'_ Ichigo thought to himself, _'You were probably surprised as well, right? Makes two of us... I never thought I'd risk my life for anyone but Aizen, yet somehow... In the midst of all that fighting... My body acted on its own... Scary...'_

* * *

Byakuya rested his back against the door to Ichigo's room, allowing his head to fall forwards as a breath of relief escaped him. Seeing his Third Seat sitting up and alert had taken a real weight off his shoulders.

For a while there, in Karakura town, he really thought Ichigo might die. Whatever those healing abilities were, he for one was grateful they were within the younger man. He wasn't sure his pride would survive the death of someone he'd sworn to help.

He straightened himself up and brushed his shihakusho down, glancing back at the room one last time before walking away swiftly. He had work to do. And he had to analyse the data he'd found in that library, otherwise the entire mission would have been a reckless waste of time.

Shaking his head at the thought, he knew he was wrong. Even if the data showed nothing the mission had not been a waste of time, he'd seen something in Ichigo, something he hadn't been sure existed. He'd seen compassion.

They still had much to discuss, such as the things Aizen had suggested, his own suspicions, and now whatever this data would reveal. But for the first time since Ichigo had joined his Division, he felt a glimmer of hope.


	7. The Truth Hurts: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time comes for Byakuya to address everything he knows about Ichigo's involvement with Aizen. A trip back to the first Rukongai District Ichigo lived in provides the perfect setting for a difficult and dangerous conversation, but at long last the truth begins to reveal itself.
> 
> (Warning: mentions of prehistoric non-con/rape)

Ichigo stretched widely as he finally left Division Four behind him. It had been a a week since he'd woken up, and despite his fast healing Unohana had insisted upon keeping him in to monitor his condition, just in case of a relapse.

He really hated hospitals, something about the sterile smell and clinical atmosphere made his skin crawl, he wasn't sure why but it had always been that way, at least for as long as he could remember.

But now, he was free again, and the sun on his skin was a welcome sensation as the gentle breeze fluttered his hair around his face. Walking in something of a daydream, he made his way home, pausing as he passed Division Five, he hadn't seen Aizen at all while he was in hospital, it made him wonder if he had somehow fallen out of favour with the man, but at the same time he believed if that was the case he would know about it.

“He's probably just busy...” He muttered to himself, continuing his stroll and greeting the gate guards who were on duty outside of Division Six.

With a sigh he let himself into his room, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. It was good to be back. It seemed like someone had been keeping his room clean during his absence, and for that he was... Grateful.

The strawberry haired man headed for the bedroom, but stopped suddenly as something caught his eye; he looked towards the kitchen and blinked as he saw a small plastic container sitting in the middle of his dining table.

“Huh?” He padded over and picked up the box, prising the lid off and gasping as he was struck by the aromatic smell of fresh sushi. He had to stuff the lid back on to stop himself eating it all right there and then.

Ichigo blinked, seeing a small note on the table where the box had been, he plucked it up and opened it swiftly, his breath catching in his throat, “This is Byakuya's... I mean... Kuchiki Taichou's writing?” He read the note and swallowed hard, feeling heat rise in his face as he ingested the warm words which summarised themselves as a 'welcome home'.

“I-Idiot.” He muttered, putting the paper back down and popping the lid back off the treats.

If this was from Byakuya then there was only one conclusion he could make, this wasn't just sushi... This was Kuchiki sushi! He'd heard from Rukia that it was the best in Soul Society, the skills of the household's staff were renown right across the Seireitei.

Unable to resist, he tried some, flopping down at the table as the most delicious explosion of flavours and textures rendered him speechless. He couldn't think of anything that he had ever eaten which could beat this. As expected, he couldn't resist eating the entire supply in one sitting, and when he had finished he let out a long satisfied sigh.

Letting his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling, he patted his full stomach and let out a soft sigh, he really should make the walk up to the man's office. There were things that they needed to discuss, things which were unrelated to Aizen, unrelated to training... It would make a change to actually have a reason to talk. Instead of the icy silence he had been receiving before the Hollow attack.

He wanted to know what he'd done to earn that ire, even if things were fine now, he needed to know.

Stretching the tendons in his fingers, he dawdled for a moment long before flying from his chair and leaving the room like a miniature hurricane, jogging up the slight slope which came to a dead end in the form of Kuchiki's office. He could sense the man was inside, and alone.

Ichigo's hand came up to the door to knock, but he froze before his knuckles could make contact.

What was he doing, being so eager to talk to the Byakuya Kuchiki? He was meant to be spying on him, not checking in on him to assess his personal well-being. There was no reason for him to do so.

Closing his eyes, the Third Seat glanced in the direction of Division Five, he could sense Aizen's reiatsu lingering in the area. It was like a cruel game, on the one hand there was Kuchiki, and in the other... Aizen.

He was loyal, he had always been loyal.

This was a ridiculously dangerous path to tread.

The young man's hand fell back to his side and he looked at his feet, the thoughts spinning through his mind were tremulous, desperate, and if Aizen ever discovered a single one of them he was well aware that a swift death would be easy to conceal as an accident.

Shaking his head, Ichigo turned away, letting out a soft huff as he walked away; flinching abruptly as he heard the door behind him slide open by itself.

“Kurosaki.” The dulcet tones of his Taichou's voice froze him to the spot.

Glancing over his shoulder hesitantly, the orange haired Shinigami gulped, chestnut eyes meeting steel ones, “Taichou ...”

Byakuya was in the midst of pulling his fingerless gloves on, unusually his Taichou's coat was absent from his attire and he looked incredibly different with out it, Ichigo found it hard to believe one item of clothing could make such a difference to someone's appearance, but apparently that was the case with the Kuchiki heir.

“You'll not find answers by running away.” The noble stated, his eyes knowing.

“I wasn't running... I was going to walk, quickly in the opposite direction.” He muttered awkwardly.

Byakuya released a small chuckle and stepped over the threshold, sliding the door shut behind himself, “Your sarcasm never ceases to amaze me. Anyway, your presence is fortuitous, I was about to travel to Rukongai, you will be accompanying me.”

“I... Will?”

“Yes, I believe it is time the two of us spoke frankly to one and other, and should it come to blows I'd rather we did so in a remote location, where others from the Division would be safe.” The raven haired man met his gaze evenly, there was no humour in his eyes as he spoke, only deathly seriousness.

Ichigo faltered slightly, his skin prickling at the idea, and the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop and think about them, “I don't want to fight you.”

“Nor do I wish to fight you. However, I have no way of knowing how you will react to what I have to say, and unfortunately for you... I witnessed just how destructive your power can be while we were in Karakura.” Byakuya tilted his head slightly, “Will you come willingly, Ichigo?”

He was silent for several long minutes before he finally answered, “Yes.”

* * *

The journey to Rukongai was tense, uncomfortable and silent, possibly the longest period of time Ichigo had spent in the presence of his Taichou without the two of them conversing in some way or another. Had he been equipped to feel anxiety he was certain his stomach would be doing somersaults, rather than the pathetic twinges he was getting instead. Nerves were okay, they were instinctive, they could keep him alive. They didn't count as actual emotions.

He watched as the tattered huts and houses blurred under the speed of their movements, he was almost as fast as Byakuya now, able to trace his movements much easier than in the past, he wasn't sure if that was a sign of progress or if in fact the noble was going easy on him. Ichigo wanted to believe it was a sign of his own personal growth, that he could keep up with the fasted Shunpo in Seireitei.

There was confusion, however, as they showed no signs of having reached their destination even as they went deeper and deeper into the Rukon districts, further away from the crisp whiteness of all things Shinigami related. Things grew darker, more morbid, more desperate. The houses grew more worn, the people more withered, thinner, it was easy to see the souls who possessed even an ounce of reiatsu, as their faces were gaunt and their eyes spoke only of the unimaginable hunger caused by having power.

Ichigo remembered it well. He remembered these roads, these paths, these people, they were growing closer to the District in which his life had restarted after the loss of his memories. He'd spent a few years there before managing to migrate into District 78, Inuzuri, where he had found Rukia and Renji.

His original residence, on the other hand, was Fugai. He couldn't remember the number of it, it had been so long since he had even bothered to consider it. With a sickened lurch, Ichigo came to realise that was exactly where they were heading. Byakuya was taking him home.

They arrived atop a cliff, looking down over a vast spread of tall trees, the darkness within those branches was incomprehensible; Ichigo stood on the edge of the cliff-face overlooking that forest with his head hung. There were so many bad memories of this place, so many things he had wished had also been wiped when his memories had vanished. He'd never received that wish though, this forest; these trees... They were the first memories he possessed, if he tried hard to reach back as far as his mind would allow, all he could ever grasp was the sight of the branches stretching above him, blotting out the sky and the full moon, enshrouding him in darkness. There was nothing before that memory, just empty blackness.

“Why have you brought me here?” He whispered, shoulders tight as he balled his hands into fists at his sides.

“Because this is where everything began for you, isn't it?” Byakuya replied, carefully peering down into the forest below the cliff.

“Yeah...” Ichigo swallowed hard, “The earliest memory I possess... Was given birth to beneath this canopy. I should have been afraid of the darkness around me, the howling wind cutting through the branches like a screeching Hollow, the lack of life around me but... I wasn't. I didn't feel anything. No fear, no worry, no anger... I was a blank slate, indifferent, uncaring. I wasn't even disturbed by the fact I was drenched in blood.”

“Blood?”

“Mm.” Ichigo's eyes were glazed over, his expression unreadable, “From head to toe, there was so much blood on me. I didn't even know if it was mine or not, it... It wasn't mine, in the end... But I still remember... It was still wet, still fresh... Clumped in my hair and slowly drying on my skin and clothes. I could taste it, that heavy metallic taste... It made me sick. I didn't know who's blood it was, I was alone, there were no bodies, no corpses, no traces of any battle.”

Byakuya watched carefully, it made his heart ache to see Ichigo so consumed by the little of his past he remembered, but he had to bring him here, it was the only place in Soul Society that could bring some closure to this... Facade.

“I couldn't remember my own name, or where I'd come from. All I knew was that I awoke looking up at the branches. I was just a kid... But even then, I couldn't actually recall my age. Everything was so... Blank, so empty. It should have been frightening, but it wasn't...” The Third Seat looked at his Taichou slowly, “I couldn't feel fear, at the time I don't think I even knew what fear was... Because there was just... Nothing. I was empty, barren, disconnected. I didn't know why, and I didn't care, it didn't seem to matter all that much at the time.”

“How did you eventually remember your name?”

“There was a name tag in my shirt.” He replied, looking back at the trees, “The people who found me discovered it.”

“You were found by strangers?” The noble asked.

“Yeah... I wandered out of the forest by myself and stumbled across their camp. Scared the life out of them.” He chuckled humourlessly at the memory, “They were a group of five men, wearing little more than rags and eating a rat they'd caught after cooking it over their fire. They took me in, fed me, helped me wash and gave me new clothes.”

“So they were kind to you?”

The strawberry blinked and looked at him sharply, “Are you stupid?” Ichigo frowned, “You don't get this far away from Seireitei and still find good people... Byakuya.”

The noble faltered at the look on the other's face, surprised to hear his name from his subordinate's lips, “What do you mean?”

“Everyone knows, the further away from Seireitei you get, the rougher the Districts become. Eventually, it reaches a point where you're surrounded by villains, violent and vulgar alike.” Ichigo murmured, folding his arms over his chest.

“So... These people... Weren't good to you?”

“Not at all.” He agreed, “Unless, of course, you consider rape to be good.”

“What?!” Byakuya gasped, his eyes flying wide.

“Mm, you weren't expecting that, were you?” Ichigo closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly as a soft sigh escaped him, “I spent so long pretending this part of my life never happened. It's... Kind of cruel to be brought back here.”

“Ichigo...” The noble swallowed hard, taking a step towards him.

“I don't require your pity, it is one of the benefits of not feeling anything... I was able to blot out what happened because it didn't mean anything to me.” He clenched his teeth, looking at the man sharply, “Did you really bring me here to talk about the good old days? Because if so... I'll take my leave. I have no desire to relive my entire life story for you.”

Byakuya hesitated at the apparent flare of annoyance from the strawberry, he glanced towards the trees and then back at Ichigo, “No... I didn't. I brought you here because I wanted to know something... Something I can't ask you within the walls of the city.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“I want to know why you had to be so brutal when you murdered my Third Seat. You could have killed him and been done, but you took the time to make it painful, so that he suffered alone.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, “Was it Aizen's idea? Or yours?”

It was Ichigo's turn to look shocked, his eyes widening as he stared back at his Taichou, a chill creeping down his spine, “How did you...”

“Believe it or not, Aizen dropped some hints himself. I'm not sure why he would want me to know what you'd done, maybe he believed it would make me less inclined to help you if you wanted to escape his grasp.” The noble answered, “But I do expect the truth from you now. No more coyness, no more vague hints.”

 _'Why would Aizen drop me in it like this? What's he thinking?'_ The strawberry couldn't believe his ears.

The current Third Seat swallowed heavily, turning his back on his Taichou as he considered his answer, “I told you once... The only time I feel alive is when I'm having sex or fighting. But that was never entirely true. I feel alive when I'm having sex or... Killing. The feeling I get is overwhelming, like being born again... It turns into a craving... I lose control.”

“So you butchered him because you couldn't help yourself?” The noble hissed.

“I butchered him because I was ordered to do so!” He bit back, swearing under his breath, “I simply lost control of my senses.”

Byakuya stared at the man's turned back, anger that he rarely showed anyone creeping up from where he'd buried it years previously, “I wonder if perhaps you spoke the truth when I first asked you about your involvement with Aizen, at the bathhouse.”

“Huh?” He glanced over at him.

“You told me that Renji was a fool for not being able to see when someone was beyond saving.” The nobleman hissed, “I think perhaps... You may well be correct.”

Ichigo's expression dropped at that, a momentary flicker of pain passed over him before it was quashed by disinterest, he looked down, letting out a weak chuckle, “Well, I suppose if you feel that way then... Your offer of help is no longer extended?”

Byakuya took slow, measured steps towards the younger man, hand coming to rest on the hilt of his Zanpakutō, “Do you know what Aizen's been doing in this forest, Ichigo?”

“Doing?” He frowned, his body tensing.

“Souls have been disappearing from all areas of Rukongai with little sign of stopping, for an extended period of time,” the noble stopped a few feet from Ichigo, eyes almost blazing, “Aizen... Sōsuke Aizen has been conducting illegal experiments on them, the results of which have seen the souls become Hollows!”

“What?” He breathed.

“That... Is what you have been helping him do, Ichigo. You've helped him torment souls that came here to rest in peace after their deaths, the bonds between a soul and a Hollow being decomposed by his... Meddling, resulting in agonising transformations, and death.”

“No...” Ichigo shook his head, “That's not right, it can't be. He would have said.”

“Would he?” Byakuya snarled, “Tell me, Ichigo... Why would he confide such a thing in you?”

“Because-”

“Because what? Because you sleep together? Because you obey his orders? Because he gave you a purpose?” The noble snapped, “You don't tell a lab rat what you've done to its cage mates, Ichigo.”

“Lab rat? Cage mates?” He repeated, “What are you talking about?!”

“The only experiment that ever succeeded...” Byakuya clenched his teeth, “Was you!”


	8. What Are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lies are crumbling around him as Ichigo is confronted with irrefutable evidence of Aizen's experimentation, but just as things are becoming clearer for the young Third Seat, Byakuya too is faced with the horrific truth. Finally, he realises why Aizen has kept such a tight hold of Ichigo Kurosaki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello, this is a surprise right? Two chapters in one week? Don't get too used to it, this is a special treat to celebrate the news that the Bleach anime will be returning to complete the Thousand Years Blood War! Back to one chapter a week from Monday!

Ichigo stared at the paperwork in his hands, a file of documents, listing Aizen's Rukon experiments, there were dozens maybe hundreds of names. Rukongai residents who had gone missing, a few scatterings of Shinigami too. And then on the very last page, his face.

His hands were shaking, “This... This proves nothing, you could have forged it yourself...” He whispered.

“That is true, I could have,” Byakuya agreed, hand still resting firmly on the hilt of his sword, “But could I have forged this?”

The noble's free hand disappeared inside his shihakusho once more and produced a slightly crumpled, folded piece of paper. Ichigo snatched it from his hands and tore it open, eyes scanning what appeared to be a newspaper article from the World of the Living.

_'Four dead, one missing in gruesome murder'_

Ichigo's stomach did a flip at the headline before his gaze skimmed lower down the page.

_'Horrific and brutal murder at the Kurosaki Clinic in Karakura town occurred last Thursday evening, reports currently showing the confirmed deaths of Isshin Kurosaki (46), Masaki Kurosaki (44), Karin Kurosaki (6) and Yuzu Kurosaki (6). So far there has been no news as to the whereabouts of Ichigo Kurosaki (10) who is still missing.'_

Ichigo was sure he was going to be sick, his head was spinning and his knees were shaking as he looked at the family photo included in the article, sure enough, he could identify his own face among the family of five.

Breathing became difficult as he swayed on the spot, his hands shaking even worse than before, his eyes were wide and fixed on the other faces in the photo, he had no memory of them, of any of them. Not the proud, grinning face of Isshin, nor the contented, happy face of Masaki, nor the adorably excitable face of Yuzu, nor the vaguely annoyed face of Karin. He didn't know these people. And yet there he was, among them, one of them, a smiling; lively Ichigo he barely recognised.

“Before we went to the World of the Living, I spent weeks researching your name in the Seireitei Archives, trying to find out what had happened to you to make you so devoid of emotion,” Byakuya said softly, watching Ichigo carefully, “I couldn't find a thing. You didn't exist.”

“D-Didn't... Exist?” Ichigo's eyes didn't move from the article, but at least he was listening.

“The Archives list every soul that has ever entered Seireitei, whether by the konso performed on lost souls, cleansing of Hollows, or trespassing Ryoka... There are millions of souls listed there, and you have never been listed among them. It is as if you simply... Appeared from no where.”

The Third Seat very slowly lifted his gaze, fixing his eyes on Byakuya. The Taichou was shocked to see tears swimming in those chestnut eyes, real tears.

“How is that possible?” The strawberry asked.

“I couldn't work out the answer myself, not until Aizen told me to search in Karakura town, I was reluctant to trust him. I couldn't understand why he'd give me a hint... But regardless, I had to know the truth.” The man's grasp finally left his blade, “That article was the only one written about what happened to the Kurosaki family, there were never any updates, never any follow ups... It was almost as if it was forgotten about completely. To be frank, the reason I couldn't find a record of your soul in the Archives... Is because you never died.”

“What?” Ichigo took a step back, he had a splitting headache, “Never... Never died? That's impossible!”

“I thought so to, until I contacted an old acquaintance who resides in Karakura and he confirmed the only theory I had.” Byakuya took a breath, “There is a type of Senkaimon, called a Resishi Henkan-Ki, which has the ability to convert World of the Living particles, into reishi. It is my belief, that your family were murdered by Aizen as the result of one of his experiments, and that by chance you were the only one who survived it, he brought you to Soul Society through the Resishi Henkan-Ki to convert your living matter into soul matter.”

Ichigo let out a shaky gasp, the article slipping from his grasp and being caught by the breeze, carried off the cliff and into the forest below, his knees finally gave out and he landed with the thud on the dirt, sat back on his haunches as he shook. He brought one quaking hand to his face as he felt the unfamiliar sensation of something running down his cheek, and gently wiped the tear away, staring at the salt liquid on his finger tips.

He felt so incredibly alone. He didn't want to believe what he was being told, he didn't want to understand what was being said, but his heart was screaming out for him to listen, screaming out for him to accept it. To finally realise the missing piece of his own being. To realise who he was.

“I... Had a family... A mother, a father... Sisters...” Ichigo breathed, staring ahead blankly, “How could I have forgotten them... For so long...”

Byakuya felt his heart breaking for the other man, despite whatever he might have done for Aizen, no matter how many he had killed for him, this was a deception that ran soul deep and beyond. A web of deceit so intricate that the truth was almost worse than the lie. He walked closer and knelt in front of Ichigo, searching his eyes, concern filling his own.

“I believe... The trauma of what you went through that night was so great that... The only way you could survive it was for your mind to fracture, to block out the horror of what you'd witnessed...” He said quietly, reaching out carefully and cupping his face with a gently hand, “You were a child, Ichigo, your mind wasn't equipped to handle something it like an adult mind would...”

The young Third Seat flinched at the gentle contact, clearly not used to such tenderness; he stared at his Taichou, eyes wide and strangely innocent given the nature of their conversation. His throat was tight and his chest burned, he opened his mouth to try and speak, but when words failed him he was forced to close it again and gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as his shoulders began to shake with the effort to contain the torrent of tears trying to escape him.

He hadn't cried since the loss of his memories, it wasn't something he felt required to do, seeing as he rarely felt stress or any other emotion that would trigger such a primal response. Yet here he was, despite still feeling nothing, these tears were rolling free against his will.

Weakness wasn't something he was programmed to show or surrender to.

Ichigo froze suddenly, his body ceasing all involuntary movement as his mind replayed his own thoughts. How right was he? Programmed? He really had been programmed... From the very moment he'd woken in the forest below it had all been little more than a game, a test, an experiment. Everything he'd experienced, everything he'd gone through, everything he had done... Was all part of one big research project.

And who was at the head of this project? Who had turned him into this... Unfeeling, unemotional, guiltless assassin?

“Aizen...” He growled suddenly, eyes opening in a flash, pure unhindered rage flaming free in his chestnut orbs, rising slowly to his feet, “Aizen... Did this... To me...”

Byakuya let out a choked gasp as he was crushed under the magnitude of Ichigo's reiatsu as it was released in an explosive blast, forcing him to crumple, pressing his hands into the dirt as a sweat broke out over his face. His eyes widened at the sensation, not having been so utterly crushed by reiatsu since his own childhood!

The noble flinched suddenly, entwined deeply within that impossibly powerful mass was something else, something darker, something twisted, something he had never expected, not even in all his theories.

He had to fight to lift his head, body shaking from the effort it took, his face paled as he saw Ichigo's face and he felt a true and honest tremble of fear run through him. Now he understood. Now... Now he could see it in all its horrific glory.

He had come to enjoy looking into Ichigo's eyes, molten chestnut globes that swirled with seductive temperance that called to him, deep inside his soul and threatened to draw him closer on so many occasions. Even while devoid of emotion, Ichigo's eyes were truly beautiful.

But not anymore.

Aizen hadn't staked a claim to Ichigo because of his appearance.

Aizen hadn't staked a claim to Ichigo because he was devoid of emotion.

Black sclera acted as the canvas for vibrant displays of liquid gold, a manic contortion on the young man's face made him seem delirious or maddened, but the white foam which was now oozing like tar from his eye sockets, nose and mouth only heightened the sense of danger that accompanied his overpowering reiatsu.

Aizen... Aizen had staked a claim to Ichigo because... He was a Hollow!

Without warning and with a speed even he couldn't follow, the huge blade of Ichigo's Zanpakutō was tearing into his shoulder, gouging through his flesh with startling ease; Byakuya released a howl of pain, his eyes clouding over momentarily from the searing heat which bloomed throughout his body.

He had never encountered someone with such raw, inhibited instinct. The instinct of a supremely trained killing machine... A Shinigami with the strength of a Hollow and the intelligence of a member of the Goeti Thirteen.

The Kuchiki heir threw himself to the side as Ichigo attacked again, the monumental pressure of his power was still bearing down heavily, but another blow would have left him dead. Byakuya could see that Ichigo could no longer recognise who he was, where he was... He was utterly blind to anything but the anger flowing through his veins.

Byakuya's eyes widened slightly as Aizen's words echoed in his mind like a wildfire: _“I believe even he would disobey me if I ordered him to kill you, in his current state at least.”_

Was this what Aizen had been referring to? Did the man know what he had created within the young Shinigami?

Byakuya's eyes narrowed to mere slits, what was he thinking? Of course Aizen knew. And in turn, the noble was more than aware that if Ichigo were to kill him, or any of his friends, the guilt would eventually consume him and he would become, in full, exactly what Aizen desired him to be.

A split second decision was not something the noble was not accustom to making, nor something which filled him with a great deal of comfort, and yet, as he finally stumbled to his feet and drew his Zanpakutō, “Scatter, Senbonzakura.”

Denumerable numbers of blossoms flooded over the cliff and fell upon the strawberry haired male like water on rock, Byakuya allowed a hand to rest on his tattered shoulder, wincing at the slick feeling of his blood under his fingertips. The wound was deep, it had snagged the tendons that controlled the arm, and it now hung limply at his side. This would take some time to heal from, if he even escaped the conflict at all.

He had never once questioned his ability to win, not against anyone, and yet he now watched as Ichigo, even in his rampancy, was able to tackle some of the attacks of his Shikai, as if it was nothing. He could see intelligence in those simmering gold eyes, and he clenched his teeth as the corrupted youth began making his way closer and closer.

Ichigo wasn't relenting as he should have, the cuts; the slices; the unbreakable weave of blades plundering themselves against his body should have rendered him unable to move, at worst, he should have already been dead. And yet, the pain and the damage was barely registering, besides making the youth more and more furious. In fact, the wounds appeared to heal almost instantly.

That was right, of course, Ichigo had once boasted about his unusually superior healing, and yet this was on another level entirely. Instant regeneration. An ability of a Hollow.

“Have you fallen... So far Ichigo?” He hissed, forcing himself to stand straight despite the still crushing levels of reiatsu around him, sweat was rolling down his cheeks as if it was raining, his chest was tight and his breathing ragged, his expression darkening, “Then I suppose I have no choice, I will have to-”

He broke off and stared, for the first time recognising that the white foam seeping from Ichigo was curving and curling around his face, hardening slowly and transforming into a mask. The noble frowned deeply. Usually Hollow masks were the very last thing to form, and yet in this instance it was the first; there was no signs of a Hollow hole in the man's chest yet; and his reiatsu was not completely Hollowfied. By the Soul King, what was Ichigo Kurosaki?

Steel eyes shot wide as the masked menace appeared from the mash of petals, sword raised high above his head, arching down towards Byakuya, the intent to kill rippling from his very aura like a tidal surge. The Taichou swept his one good arm around and managed to block the blade with a thick ribbon of petals.

With a swift burst of Shunpo, the noble lifted his hand, pressing his fingertips against Ichigo's shoulder, voice low with regret, “Hadō 4: Byakurai.”

He watched regretfully as Ichigo was thrown forwards by the force of the Kidō, a hole remaining in his shoulder from the energy which had been blasted through his body, “Sprinkled on bones of the beast! Sharp tower, red crystal, steel ring! Move and become the wind, stop and become the calm! The sound of warring spears fills the empty castle! Hado 63: Raikōhō!”

Forced to his knees by his own Kidō, the noble panted hard, shielding his eyes as the clifftop was illuminated with yellow electricity, he raised his head carefully, looking around for his orange haired subordinate.

The Kuchiki heir expression fell swiftly, and he gulped back the lump in his throat as he pushed himself into a standing position, turning slowly, oh so slowly, his lips parting to release a shaking breath as he came face to face with the fully formed Hollow mask concealing Ichigo's face from him. Two tremendous horns almost tickling his cheeks as he was forced to witness the Hollowfying foam which now continued to descend, encasing the Shinigami in the tomb of a Hollow's body.

Byakuya's eyes flicked back up to Ichigo's golden ones, sclera so utterly black like a backdrop to make the irises even brighter, there was nothing there he recognised, nothing he could reach out to. He forced himself to stand straight, by his pride as the head of the Kuchiki household, he would not die while slumped over, he would face it head on as he did with everything else in his life.

The mouthpiece of the Hollow mask cracked and opened, moving as if trying to speak and yet releasing no sound; Ichigo's body stiffened and with no warning the foam which currently reached mid-way down his chest and back began to solidify far faster than it should have done, fluctuating unstably before spearing outwards like an angered Blowfish.

A deafening Hollow roar escaped the creature, and Byakuya was forced to duck as his subordinate's sword arm flew upwards, the hilt of the blade snapping up between the eyes. Byakuya's mouth fell open in surprise and he took a step back, watching as the foam began to ripple and crack along his chest and arms, shattering within a second of the change.

Ichigo seemed frozen on the spot, only his cracked mask remaining in place as his reiatsu dropping dramatically back to its normal limits, Zanpakutō tumbling from prone fingers and sticking softly into the ground between his feet.

The noble withdrew his Shikai, sheathing his own sword carefully as he took tentative steps towards the paralysed male, being extraordinarily cautious of those still sharp horns, he reached up with one hand, digging his nails into the groove created between his subordinate's eyes. Sucking in a faintly terrified breath, he pulled as hard as his remaining might would permit, ripping the mask free and flinching as it too shattered.

Ichigo's warm chestnut gaze was back, but they were blank; eyes half rolled up into his skull as his legs gave out, body dropping like a heavy sack towards the blood stained floor. His Taichou caught him deftly, head cradled in his lap as the noble checked him for wounds.

He groaned as his shoulder struggled under the strain of Ichigo's unconscious state, the nobleman was losing blood at an alarming rate in the wake of their fight, and yet he made no attempt to move, knowing it was futile, he could do nothing with only one working arm.

Gritting his teeth, Byakuya Kuchiki found himself shaking, “You... Idiot...” He breathed, “Letting go of yourself like that! Attacking your own Taichou! When you wake up from this... I will simply have to punish you for it... And for making me feel something as pathetic... As fear...”

Not a single tear had escaped him since childhood. Not even when Hisana had passed away, had he allowed himself such a relief as crying for her soul, for she had been at peace, and he had been in turmoil. The only way to survive that loss had been to seal his heart away even tighter than before. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to shed a single tear, as much as his heart was ripping itself apart.

“Who... Does Sōsuke Aizen think he is... To have wrought this upon you?” He whispered, shaking fingers slowly crept out across Ichigo's cold cheek, leaning over him slowly and allowing their foreheads to rest together, “On my pride... As the Kuchiki heir... I am going to save you from him, and even if it takes me one hundred years... I will find a way to put you back together again, Ichigo... I swear it!”

The hair on the noble's arms stood on end abruptly as he sensed a new presence behind him; fearing Aizen had come to collect what was his, his hand fell on his Zanpakutō once more, twisting on the spot to bring an end to that miserable wretch.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw someone rather different watching him. Someone familiar, yet someone he had not seen for a very long time.

“What an unlikely day today must be...” He gulped, closing his eyes as the pain in his shoulder finally overwhelmed him, and his blade clattered to the floor as he collapsed beside Ichigo, unconsciousness swallowing him whole.


	9. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo awakens after his Hollowfication dazed, confused and in unfamiliar territory. As he ventures forward he meets the people responsible for rescuing himself and Byakuya from Fugai, and finally he gets the answers he desperately needs.

Ichigo released a soft whine as he finally woke, his head was absolutely killing him and his chest felt bruised, like he'd been kicked by a Hollow. The Shinigami cracked his eyes open slowly and looked around, finding himself alone in a small shōji walled room, laid out on a simple futon.

The overpowering smell of disinfectant and other chemicals burned his nose and made him cringe in distaste before his gaze was captured by the sight of his own reflection in the mirror across the room from him.

His face was gaunt, haunted almost; dark rings circled his eyes, eyes which were shadowed with regret and with fear. His skin was paler than normal, ashen with no hint of the proud blush which sometimes graced his high cheekbones. He looked like a shadow of himself.

The thing which terrified him more than anything else, was the fact he felt terrified. He _felt_. It was alien, unwanted, claustrophobic and breath snatching. He glanced down as he felt his hands shaking at his sides and he swallowed hard, searching his memories for the last thing he could recall.

Things were fuzzy and confusing, and he soon gave up. Instead, carefully pushing the bedding away from himself, he crawled from the futon and swayed on his feet, reaching for the white yukata hanging not far away, he concealed his body with a shyness he was most unused to.

“What the fuck happened to me?” He croaked, voice raw and raspy, like he'd been screaming relentlessly.

Unsure if he was alone or not, the strawberry haired male looked around for his Zanpakutō, faltering as he realised he couldn't locate Zangetsu anywhere. Even when dipping into his Inner World, the grim spirit was nowhere to be seen, however the sight of his Inner World was something to behold.

The proud city buildings which had formerly stood to attention in hues of blue and black were semi-crumbled and decimated, as though a great battle had taken place. It made no sense to him, as usually after a fight with Zangetsu the surrounding area would repair itself.

No closer to answers, Ichigo left the room, walking tentatively down a long corridor. He could hear voices up ahead, as well as the smell of fresh food and coffee, his footsteps growing faster in response as his gut twisted painfully for sustenance.

Sliding the door open, he peeked inside the room, seeing three things at the same time, all of which confused him even further.

There was a table stuffed with every kind of food he could imagine. His Zanpakutō was being suspended above said table, encased in a glowing blue Kidō cage. And Byakuya Kuchiki was flat on the floor being force fed by a darkly skinned woman who had a long length of purple hair and the largest breasts he'd ever seen.

Perplexed, and wondering if he was actually still asleep, he slid the door shut again and turned to go back to the room he'd abandoned, freezing as the door opened again to revealed a tall blond man garbed in green and white, blond hair half hidden beneath a hat.

“Good morning, Kurosaki-san.” The man said, smile hidden behind an ornate looking fan.

“Uh...” He stared into the man's eyes for a long moment, something tickling in the back of his mind before his back stiffened, “Urahara... Kisuke Urahara...”

“My, my, you know of me? I suppose I should be flattered,” the blond chuckled, before all humour was dropped at the same time as the fan, “Then again, considering what Aizen-san has likely told you about me... I'll pass.”

Ichigo had to fight the urge to take a step back, the aura of danger surrounding the blond was palpable, “Indeed... I don't believe he has ever said a favourable thing about you.” He admitted.

The atmosphere seemed to grow darker still, and the young Shinigami began to believe he wouldn't leave the hallway alive, but then without warning Urahara threw his head back and laughed loudly, the tension instantly dissipating in response.

“At least you're honest about it!” The blond grinned widely, “Come in, Kurosaki-san, I'm sure you must be hungry.”

It was only with the mention of it, that Ichigo's stomach released a reluctant groan of need, and he remembered the reason for leaving his room. He stepped around the blond man tentatively, glancing at the table of food again, and then to the pair on the floor.

Byakuya looked worse for wear, pale and a little clammy around the edges as he was fed by the buxom woman. It made him uncomfortable to see the noble in such a state, and without saying a word he grabbed as much food as he could and sat in the far corner to eat it, leaning his back against the wall as he released a contented sigh at the good taste now settling in his mouth.

Ichigo watched with a definite discomfort as Urahara sat beside him, sipping deeply from a cup of what smelled like tea. The blond made no attempt to speak to him, or even look at him, apparently watching over the other two people in the room to ensure everything was well.

The silence was killing him, as was the fact that ever so slowly, he was beginning to remember what had happened. His right hand shook with the memory of it swinging his sword towards his Taichou, he clenched it into a tight fist, looking down at his lap as small pieces of information began to click together.

“Where are we?” He asked quietly when he could take it no more.

“We are in my shop, in the World of the Living.” Urahara answered without even a second of hesitation, “It seemed the safest place to treat you both after...”

“After I nearly killed him.” The strawberry lifted his gaze slowly and looked at the nobleman across the room, “What happened to me? One minute I was fine... Well... Not fine. Distressed maybe, and then I just felt this surge of... Absolute fury and suddenly it was like I became a back seat driver, like I was watching someone else control my actions, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't... I couldn't take it back...”

The blond glanced at him for a moment and then looked away again, “How much do you remember of your conversation with Byakuya-san?”

Pausing to consider the question, he swallowed, “Everything. I remember everything now.”

“Good.” He sighed, facing the younger man properly, “What Byakuya-san told you was the truth, it appears as a child you were subjected to one of Aizen's experiments, it wiped out your family but somehow left you alive. I am certain you are the only survivor of such an experiment, and as such you became a worthy recipient of his interest. He stole you away to Soul Society by using a special Senkaimon... And then left you to fend for yourself, to see how strong you could become.”

Ichigo balked, staring at him with tight lips, no matter how many times he heard it... He couldn't entirely believe it. Everything he knew about Aizen, everything the man knew about him... It was a hard pill to swallow.

“What did he do to me?” Ichigo questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

“He successfully broke down the barrier between a Shinigami's powers, and the powers of a Hollow.” There was no lie in his voice, “You already know how... Don't you?”

The strawberry haired male tensed, mind sinking back to the many conversations he had shared with Aizen, Gin and Tōsen. The plan. That long winded plan. The very reason he recognised Kisuke Urahara.

“The Hōgyoku.” He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“Correct.”

“But that doesn't make any sense... He told us... He told us that you were in possession of the Hōgyoku, he had this long ass plan to retrieve it from you... That was what this was always about!” He slammed his head back sharply, cracking it off the wall without so much as a flinch, “Was it all lies?”

“Not entirely.” Urahara's tone darkened, “There are... Two Hōgyoku at present. Aizen and I shared the same idea, the same curiosity about how to engorge a Shinigami's power... And as I created one Hōgyoku... He was creating another, in secret. Neither of them ever truly worked as they were meant to, they were missing something... They were missing each other.”

“Two halves of the same... Hōgyoku?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The blond nodded once, “Once I discovered what he had been doing to the citizens of Rukongai I realised what I had created, and what was required to make it work fully. Fearing what I had wrought I tried to destroy my Hōgyoku... But that was impossible. So I hid it instead, just before I was exiled.”

Slumping a little, Ichigo licked his lips, glancing over at the other two in the room again, his eyes danced over the obvious bandages under his Taichou's yukata and he allowed his head to hang, a hand running through his hair restlessly.

“I... I can't believe I let him play me like this...” He croaked, “How could I be so blind...”

“Everyone is blind to Aizen in one way or another,” the purple haired woman said suddenly, giving him a sharp look, “The power of his Zanpakutō ensures that.”

“His... Zanpakutō?” He repeated.

“Yeah, his perfect illusion technique is... Unbreakable.” She nodded, “Once you see his Shikai that's it, you can never escape it. He can make you see, smell, taste, hear and feel anything he wants you to.”

Ichigo was feeling sick, such a power was... frightening. His eyes moved from the woman, to the nobleman beside her, their eyes locked in place and he was stunned to see a distinct lack of hatred or anger in those steel orbs.

“Yoruichi-san I think it would be wise to leave these two alone for a little while.” Urahara said from beside him, the blond rising to his feet in a fluid motion, “They have much to discuss.”

“Will you be alright, Little Byakuya?” The woman asked the noble.

Ichigo was sure he could see a vein pulse in the man's temple as he growled out some response that he couldn't quite hear. He watched as the purple haired woman, Yoruichi, joined Urahara and the pair disappeared through one of the doors in the room, opposite the one he had entered through not long before.

The strawberry grew tense, picking at the remnants of food on his plate, not sure he dare raise his eyes to look at the Kuchiki heir again. He swallowed hard as he heard the rustle of bedding, followed by strained breath and footsteps, a shadow falling over him.

“Are you determined to wallow over what has been done, or are you going to stride forwards and fight for something better?” Byakuya's voice was stern.

Ichigo flinched and his jaw tightened, “I'm not wallowing.”

“And I'm not renown for having a stick up my ass.”

Ichigo's eyes shot up at that, eyebrows almost disappearing into his hair as he tried to gauge whether or not he had really just heard that come from the noble's lips, he spluttered slightly before a small giggle escaped him and he clasped a hand over his mouth to silence another.

Byakuya, for his part, had the faintest smile present as he carefully lowered himself down in front of his subordinate and sat cross legged before him, he winced a little and held his chest, but deftly stole an item of food from Ichigo's plate.

“Are you... Are you alright?” Ichigo asked, gaze flicking over the thick bandages he could see.

“While I do believe this is the worst injury I've ever sustained... Urahara assures me I will fully recover.” The noble had to lean slightly to one side to achieve any amount of comfort, “I will be fine.”

Blowing out a puff of relief, Ichigo felt his shoulders slump, he couldn't put his finger on why it pleased him so much to know the other man would be alright, but it wasn't something he could control. It was just the same as in Karakura town, when his body had acted on its own to defend the man.

“I'm so sorry.”

It was Byakuya's turn to look surprised, staring at his strawberry haired subordinate in disbelief, he'd never expected to hear those words from him, “Ichigo...”

“Don't.” The strawberry breathed, “What I did to you... Whether I was in control or not... Is unforgivable. I could have killed you. I almost did kill you.”

The Kuchiki heir watched him carefully, head tilting a little as he spoke, his stomach did a small flip as something clicked in the back of his head, “Ichigo are you feeling... Actual emotion right now?”

The younger man stared at him, but couldn't hold the gaze for more than a few seconds before he dropped his head into his hands, “Yes... I am...”

“What are you feeling, right now?” He asked, shuffling a little closer and slowly reaching out, resting his hand on the other man's shoulder.

“Anger... Sadness... Guilt and... Fear...” Ichigo looked up slowly, chestnut eyes swimming with unshed tears, “I... I don't know what to do with this feeling... It's so overwhelming... So... Strong... I feel like it is going to crush me... Swallow me whole... I... How do you cope with this feeling every day?”

Byakuya swallowed thickly, pushing up onto his knees and carefully cupping Ichigo's face in his hands, “Emotions... Have never been easy for me either, you know? When I was younger I had a formidable temper, I'd get so angry at the smallest of things. My elders taught me to suppress everything, to hide behind a wall and contain myself.”

“How's that working out for you?” He asked shakily, making no effort to move.

“It worked very well... Until you came along.” He chuckled humourlessly, “You were such an upstart at Shino, always sticking your nose into trouble, no matter what it cost. You were a far better brother figure to Rukia than I have ever managed to be, protective and kind to her... It used to infuriate me, every day hearing about you from her, 'Ichigo this' and 'Ichigo that' I found myself jealous of the impact you had on her life. Of how much she looked up to you.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, it was hard to imagine Byakuya being jealous of anything, “I always did get the impression you'd like to hand my ass to me.”

“Yes, well... Emotions effect people in strange ways.” The noble sighed deeply, “When I learnt that Aizen had staked a claim on you to be in Division Five, along side Renji; Hinamori and Kira I was furious. Despite your obvious penchant for trouble, anyone could see you were incredibly skilled. I had intended to request Renji and yourself for Division Six, but Aizen got there first...”

“Are you...” The strawberry frowned, “Do you blame yourself for what happened to me?”

“Perhaps a little.”

“That's ridiculous, if what you told me is true and Aizen... Aizen has had a hand in my life for far longer than I thought, then, there is nothing you could have done.” He reached up nervously and rested one of his hands over his Taichou's, “This isn't on you.”

“While I thank you for that, I still feel responsible in part at least.” Byakuya sighed deeply, “Anyway, my original point was that... It's natural that you're feeling overwhelmed, you've gone for years without a hint or trace of emotion and now suddenly it has been thrust back upon you. It will take time to adjust. You simply have to... Take it one day at a time.”

Ichigo nodded once in response before he let out a long shuddering breath, “I'm so sorry. For everything. I... I've done so much... So many terrible things... And I didn't care, I'm still not sure if I do care but I know I feel different...”

“The fact you can apologise with sincerity suggests you have at least some elements of regret.”

“I can't repair the damage I've done,” he whispered, “What I did to your Third Seat...”

Byakuya closed his eyes for a brief moment and pulled a face, the expression was somewhere between discomfort and anger, “Ichigo... From the very first moment you walked into my office and became my Third Seat, I knew you were Aizen's man on the inside. I mean, who better than someone everyone trusts implicitly. As Renji told me once, despite your disconnection from the people around you, you have a talent for getting people to like you.”

“Why did you accept my application if you knew?” Ichigo faltered, allowing his hand to drop back to his lap.

“Because...” The man paused for a long moment, “Because it seemed like the only real way to get any leverage over Aizen. A risky ploy, for sure, to accept his spy willingly... But at the time it seemed like my only option. I was getting no where with my investigation. That is one answer at least, but the absolute truth... Is that I have always respected you, despite my feelings about your relationship with Rukia, I know you are capable of being so much more than you currently are. I care enough to try and see that happen.”

The younger man looked startled, sitting back slowly and looking at the floor as his face flushed at the praise. It was different to when Aizen praised him. Aizen's praise was shown in actions, in touches and rewards of a physical nature, casual words were not something that usually passed between them unless they were short on time. But this felt... Cordial, it felt warm and it felt good.

“Thank you.”

Byakuya couldn't help but smile slightly, Ichigo's voice had been barely more than a breath but he had heard it. He could already see an incredible difference in the young man, humility; understanding and acceptance to name but a few changes. He was a long way from normality, but it was a start.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, Ichigo was beginning to feel a little less guilt burdening him and he was finally able to finish eating, Byakuya returned to his makeshift bed on the other side of the room, apparently having exerted himself just a little too much.

Before long, Urahara and Yoruichi returned, the blond returning to his former position beside Ichigo, while the buxom female checked the barrier around the large Zanpakutō still lingering in the middle of the room.

“I expect that you have questions, Kurosaki-san?” The blond asked after a long moment of quiet, looking at the younger man curiously.

“A few... Yes.” He nodded, “You are Kuchiki Taichou's informant aren't you? The one who helped him piece the final things together?”

“Correct.” The blond said instantly, clearly not concerned about his involvement being known.

“I see... And will I continue to have problems with my... Hollow side surfacing? Is there a way to reverse what was done to me?”

“There is no way to reverse what has been done to you, I'm afraid,” Urahara opted to answer the easier question first, “It will be a case of careful management and control. Aptly, you will need to ensure you do not lose control again, if you do... There is a very real risk you could become a fully fledged Hollow, with your reiatsu, you may even become an Arrancar. As for your first question... I fear the answer is yes. Now it has surfaced... You may well have to fight against it for the rest of your life. The best thing we can hope for, if you do lose control, is that you become a Vizard.”

“What in the Soul King's name, is a Visored?” Byakuya asked sharply.

“A Shinigami who has been given Hollow powers, it is the correct term for what Ichigo is currently, however, because there is a chance he will lose himself to his Hollow side and has yet to learn how to utilise the power of his darker side, he cannot be considered one in good faith.” The former Taichou answered quickly.

“How do you know all this, if you suspect I'm the only one to survive the experiments?” The strawberry asked.

Urahara faltered very visibly, drawing ire from both Ichigo and Byakuya for it, “I... Well...” The man sighed, “There is one group... Who survived. Very narrowly, I might add. But I didn't lie, exactly, because they are different to you. They were Shinigami when they were experimented on, and you were Human.”

“And this group... They became Visored?”

“Yes...” Urahara trailed off in thought and then smiled widely, “The only positive thing so far is that Aizen doesn't actually know they survived... He believes they were slain by Soul Society. However, that does mean I am rather trusting you not to tell him about them.”

Ichigo glanced at him and then towards the nobleman who was watching him carefully, “I can understand why you'd be worried but... Do you truly think I will ever give him any information again? Knowing what I know now?”

“Do you mean that, Ichigo?” Byakuya asked hesitantly, all he had wanted was to free Ichigo from that man's grasp, but it would be a dangerous game of cat and mouse to unravel his plans in such a way that would ensure his capture, but prevent his subordinate coming to harm.

“I mean it.” He said firmly, “Aizen... Aizen has been good to me, I know it sounds stupid... But it is true. He trained me, tutored me, believed in me when no one else did, he gave me a purpose beyond breathing... And I owe him for that... But... I know, in my heart, that what you've told me is true. I can't carry on that existence... I can't betray the memory of my family.”

“That is very brave, Kurosaki-san.” Urahara murmured, patting the young man's back, “You know you will be in danger, yes? He may kill you if he discovers that you no longer serve him.”

“Of that... I have no doubt.” The strawberry clenched a fist, “But I will not be manipulated any longer!”

The Kuchiki heir felt a swell of pride in his chest as he watched Ichigo master himself, there was a glimmer of strength returning in the wake of the fear he'd mentioned, he was proud of him.

“If it's not too much trouble, I have a few more questions.” Ichigo's voice was different now, more certain, more sure, “For a start... Why is Zangetsu up there?”

Yoruichi glanced over her shoulder towards the strawberry before she chuckled, “I'll answer that. We had no idea if you would turn again while unconscious, the safest way to protect ourselves was to separate you from your Zanpakutō using this protective barrier.”

That made sense really, he couldn't help but agreed with the logic, “What do we do now?”

“We will return to Soul Society tomorrow morning,” Byakuya stated calmly, “I require the rest of today to heal to a suitable condition, and then we will be returning. I contacted Renji when I woke earlier this morning, and informed him that we had been called away on an urgent mission. He is taking care of the Division while we are away.”

The thought of returning shook Ichigo, his palms turned clammy, “How can I go back?”

“What do you mean?” The noble asked, confusion colouring his voice.

Waving his hands in the search for an appropriate answer, he huffed, “How can I go back there? Knowing what I've done, knowing what I am...”

“Am I to understand that my Third Seat is disobeying a direct order?”

“Wha-” He paused, “You still want me to be your Third Seat? After all this?”

Byakuya's eyes seemed to flicker with some emotion that Ichigo couldn't place, before he then sighed and folded his arms, nodding once, “Of course I do. As you told me on the day you applied... You more than qualify for the position. Nothing has changed.”

“But I have... I have changed!” Ichigo protested, “Aizen knows his own work, better than anyone! All it will take is one look and he will know... He will know that I can... _Feel_. He will still expect the same of me... Information about you and your investigation. If I go back like this... I'll be dead before I reach the Division.”

“I believe I can assist you with that, Kurosaki-san.” Urahara smiled widely, fluttering his fan in front of his face as he held up what appeared to be a Gikon, “It only took a few hours to synthesise... This is a modified Gikon, rather than pushing your soul out of a Gigai, it suppresses your emotions. Taking one of these every six hours will ensure you can maintain the appearance of feeling nothing.”

Ichigo spluttered, taking the item from him instantly, “This is... That's... What the fuck...”

Turning the tube of tablets over in his palm, Ichigo felt his stomach churn uncomfortably, even if he could maintain the facade of being emotionless, there were still things that Aizen would expect of him. The sex, for one thing, was something he knew the other man would still anticipate, if not for Ichigo's extended stamina in the bedroom, it would be for the stress relief.

His eyes slipped closed and he felt his skin crawl, remembering the moments they had shared together, the things he had allowed that man to do to him, without a care in the world. He'd offered himself on a plate and not cared even a little bit. As far as Aizen was aware, he was a deviant in the bedroom, emotionless or otherwise.

Deciding to deal with that problem if it arose, Ichigo suddenly frowned and looked around, “Say... Urahara-san, you said you hid your Hōgyoku before you were exiled, right?”

“Yes, Kurosaki-san, that is correct.” The blond nodded.

“Well... Where did you hide it?”

The man seemed to grow incredibly uncomfortable at that question and removed his hat slowly from on top of his head, “I... Concealed it inside of a Gigai, an adapted one at that. It was altered so that rather than help restore a Shinigami's reiatsu over time, it actually sapped more and more away, until they essentially became Human.”

“That's...” Ichigo trailed off as a thought occurred to him, “Wait, what happened to it once you were exiled?”

“I brought it with me, but...” The man's breath hitched momentarily, “It was mistakenly given to a visiting Shinigami to use while they traversed the World of the Living during a mission.”

“How does that kind of accident happen?”

“On purpose,” Byakuya muttered from the corner, “The Shinigami in question was used as a scape goat, as a means to make sure the power of the Hōgyoku could never truly be Aizen's. A sloppy way to do business, Urahara.”

“Yes...” The blond trailed off, looking down.

Ichigo felt an immediate discomfort towards how the man was acting, “It didn't go according to plan, did it?”

Urahara glanced at him, and then at Yoruichi before he groaned and stood up, “Not entirely, the... Gigai malfunctioned and was called back to Soul Society, cutting short the Shinigami's stay here. They were meant to remain here indefinitely, under the radar... But instead they're back there, closer to Aizen than ever and...”

“And?” Ichigo slowly got to his feet as well, looking at the man sharply.

“The Gigai's primary function worked. It transferred the Hōgyoku from the storage chamber inside of it... Into the soul of the Shinigami. So technically, the Hōgyoku will still be having some form of an effect on them.” The man held his hands up defensively as it seemed Ichigo would punch him if he didn't answer fully.

“What sort of effects?”

“Nothing severe, just some slight flu symptoms.” He shrugged.

“That's not so bad then.” Ichigo relaxed a little, but it lasted only a second before his back went rigid and he met Byakuya's gaze, “Oh no... Oh no, no, no!”

“I fear we're on the same thought wave.” The noble growled, his reiatsu flaring with anger.

“What... Am I missing?” Urahara asked nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“There's one Shinigami who has been presenting with those symptoms recently... Ever since they got back from a mission in the World of the Living.” Ichigo breathed, sucking in a breath, “Urahara-san... I think the Hōgyoku is inside Rukia.”


	10. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the shocking realisation that one half of the Hōgyoku resides within Rukia, Ichigo solidifies his resolve to bring Aizen down by any means necessary. In the wake of his decision, a nighttime talk brings him and Byakuya closer together as they find a way to bond over what they've been through and what they will undoubtedly face once they return to Seireitei.

It had taken absolutely every ounce of willpower Ichigo possessed not to lunge at Urahara and kill him with his bare hands, the only distraction from his own anger was Byakuya's. The Kuchiki heir became a roiling, trembling time bomb. It had started in his hands, risen slowly into his shoulders and before long his entire body had been quivering with the effort to withhold his rage. At one point it had seemed like the nobleman would explode, the tremulous scorch of his reiatsu singing the air.

The blond had been mortified by the news that they suspected Rukia was carrying the Hōgyoku within her body, but the strawberry wasn't entirely convinced if the man's concern was for the woman... Or for the woman's close proximity to Aizen's grasp.

Regardless, the news had only one good effect upon them: Ichigo finally had a reason to stand at Byakuya's side and help him overcome Aizen. If the damage inflicted upon his own life hadn't been enough, the realisation that one of his childhood friends was in imminent danger was all he needed to solidify his resolve and accept that they had no choice but to return to Soul Society.

The idea terrified him far more than he was comfortable, to the extent he had almost popped one of the pills Urahara had given him, but he'd resisted. He had to wait at least a little bit longer.

Now, sitting on his futon with the covers loosely around his waist, Ichigo allowed his back to rest against the wall, staring out of the large window to his right, it was night time in Karakura town, which was where he had discovered Urahara's store to reside. The moon was full and blossoming with light which trickled down over the rooftops outside and flittered into his room.

There was a certain serenity to it as he simply allowed his mind to wander away with him, there was a part of him that wanted to know more about his family, the people who had been stolen from him so long ago. It felt cruel, to have spent so many years not remembering they even existed, only to remember and yet know nothing.

There were flashes, little glimpses of more, like knowing that Yuzu enjoyed cooking and sew craft, or that Karin was athletic. But besides those small details he couldn't recall anything of substance. He had no memory of their voices, or their touch. It left him feeling rather cold.

“May I join you?”

Ichigo looked up at the voice and his lips parted in surprise as he saw Byakuya stood in the open doorway, the man was wincing and holding his shoulder but seemed better than he had earlier in the day, aside from the healthy dose of anxiety which seemed to nestle on the crest of his brow in the form of a frown.

“Of course.” The strawberry replied, moving over on the futon to make room for the other man.

“My thanks.” The noble shuffled closer, sliding down the wall carefully until he was able to sit comfortably, his eyes drawn to the moonlight just as Ichigo's had been.

They were quiet for what felt like an eternity, but neither seemed to mind, simply comfortable being sat together, and knowing that at long last, they were on the same side.

Ichigo was content now, knowing he didn't have to maintain any kind of indifference in front of the noble because frankly the man had seen him at his very worst, there was no further embarrassment to experience after almost turning into a Hollow in front of him. It was liberating.

Byakuya, for his part, was simply pleased that Ichigo was finally on a better path, the fact that he no longer had to keep his guard up in case he said anything which would be useful to Aizen was... Relaxing. He felt as if a huge strain had finally been lifted from his shoulders, things could only improve for Ichigo, surely, as long as he maintained appearances for Aizen.

“What caused that look?” Ichigo asked, seeing the suddenly increase of a concerned scowl from the nobleman.

“What you were saying earlier about Aizen knowing you're different, you said you are worried because he will still expect things of you. Information about my investigation, and about me?” Byakuya replied.

“Yeah, I expect he will.” He nodded.

“That wasn't what you were really worried about... Was it?”

Ichigo faltered, giving him an uncertain look before he dropped his gaze to his own feet, which had suddenly become far more interesting, “I'm... Not sure what you mean.” He whispered.

Byakuya tilted his head, sighing softly as Ichigo appeared to shut down, he reached out cautiously and rested a hand on the other's arm, “You told me once that you and Aizen were sleeping together... You're worried about how to get out of that arrangement now you know the truth, right?”

“Fuck, why do you have to read me so well?” It wasn't a question, not really.

“I assume I am correct then.”

“Of course you are.” Ichigo huffed, looking at the hand that was on his arm for a long moment, “Aizen's got two rules you know? For his 'lovers' if that's what you want to call it. Firstly, you can never sleep in his bed. And secondly, you can't sleep with anyone else as long as he is interested in you, unless he gives his permission. I only broke the first rule once, after we spoke that night in the bathhouse, I went to see him, apparently I was pretty infuriated...”

“He allowed you to stay that night?”

“Yeah... Wore myself out so much trying to release that frustration that I passed out, I woke up the next morning after a nightmare, not even remembering getting to his room.” He snorted in spite of himself, “I've let him use me for so long... In so many ways, but honestly, I think the sex might just be the worst way. It makes my skin crawl to know what he did to me... And that I let him fuck me. It's sick... He's sick...”

Disturbed by the look of self hatred etched on Ichigo's face, the noble slowly put his arm around his shoulders, he wasn't used to offering comfort but he couldn't just ignore the way the young man was feeling, especially when his emotions were all so raw and new, “You didn't know, Ichigo. You had no way of knowing any of it... He is a master of manipulation. He has the entire Goeti Thirteen wrapped around his little finger.”

Ichigo resisted the contact at first, flinching at just how tender it was, he wasn't used to being handled with such care, but after a long moment, he leaned into the touch and allowed his body to relax, “I don't know how I'm going to avoid sleeping with him... It was such a... Ritual part of what we did... Even refusing that might make him suspicious.”

“You can't force yourself to do it for the sake of keeping up appearances.” The older man muttered, “That would be cruel.”

“And if it's that or die?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, “I'm not sure if you entirely get how dangerous he is, Kuchiki Taichou... He could make me disappear with a snap of his fingers if he wanted to... I have to survive in order to see this through. If that means... Degrading myself... I'll do it.”

Byakuya blinked in bewilderment at the other's admonishment, “Why?”

The strawberry pulled away from his touch, not in such a way to suggest it was unwelcome, but so he could stand up and pace the floor in front of the futon, his arms were folded defensively, but his expression was open, “I've been living a lie. And what's worse is that I've been lying about the lie. I have spent my entire Shinigami life having to pretend to feel, pretend to care, pretend to make bonds with the people around me so that I can blend in...”

The noble remained quiet, allowing Ichigo to say what was on his mind. He wanted to understand, he wanted to get to know Ichigo better, the real Ichigo, the one who was only just beginning to rise from the ashes of his old self.

“Renji, Rukia, Kira, Hinamori...” He breathed, “We've been friends since Shino, even longer with Renji and Rukia, we met in Inuzuri... But when I say friends I mean that for years I forced the connection, I never truly cared about any of them, I tolerated them to make myself appear... More humane. I used them. They know what I'm like, they know I'm disconnected, disinterested... But they never knew the extent of it, I hid it so well. In their eyes I was just highly antisocial, pretending to be nicer than I was. They accepted me for that...”

The strawberry drew a breath, standing near the window and gazing out at the moon as his hands rested on the cold glass, his tongue flitted over his lips nervously as he focused his thoughts.

“I have behaved... Abominably towards them, and they don't even know it. And yet, now, I can feel these... Emotions and when I think about them I feel... Warm? Happy even... Remembering the times we spent together causing mischief in the Academy, or spending time together in Rukongai, celebrating our graduation,” Ichigo's voice dipped as a small smile toyed around the edges of his lips, “I finally... Understand what it means to care about someone.”

Byakuya couldn't help but be a little enamoured by the change he saw, the smile he saw sent a shiver through him and he knew without a doubt he would do anything he could to protect Ichigo from further harm at Aizen's hands.

“You wanted to know why I'd put myself through it? Making myself sleep with Aizen if it becomes necessity?” Ichigo looked over at him slowly, “I'll do it because I have to survive long enough to protect what I care about... We need to find a way to save Rukia, and I can't do that if I'm dead.”

Byakuya didn't like the idea of Ichigo putting himself in such a position, but his reasoning was so pure and honest, it made his chest tighten, “I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect what I care about too. And maybe, somewhere in the middle, we'll fight together.”

“Definitely.” The strawberry breathed, “I'm going to put right what I've done... And I'm going to protect my friends at the same time!”

* * *

When morning came, Ichigo realised that they must have fallen asleep while talking because he was sprawled out on the wood floors beside his futon where Byakuya Kuchiki was curled up asleep. Groaning softly, he pushed himself into an upright position and observed the noble who was currently in his sleeping space.

Byakuya's kenseikan were no where to be seen, allowing his long locks of raven hair to flutter freely around his face. Ichigo was sure it was the first time he had ever seen the man without the adornments in place, except for that fleeting memory of the bathhouse, but at that time he hadn't been paying much attention to what the noble looked like.

But now, he couldn't ignore it.

Long locks of raven hair that looked as soft as silk trickled out along the pillows like a blackened river, shiny and luscious in the morning sunlight; it was a light which illuminated the noble's face, pale skin seeming to glow under the clement hues of orange flittering into the room. His eyelashes were unbelievably long, easily tickling his cheeks as he slept.

Ichigo realised with a startled breath that Byakuya Kuchiki was beautiful. More beautiful than anyone he'd ever laid his eyes on, if ever there was a perfect balance of elegance and savagery then it resided inside this man.

Confused by his own thoughts, the strawberry got to his feet, aching from the uncomfortable resting place he'd ended up in, he looked around and blinked as he saw both his own uniform, and his Taichou's uniform hanging by the door. Apparently, at some point in the night Urahara or Yoruichi had dropped in to deliver them.

Unable to resist his own curiosity, he padded over and inspected Byakuya's shihakusho with interest, the basics were the same, the material felt softer and more up market, but he suspected that was because of the man's status in the noble world rather than his place as a Taichou, after all, Aizen's robes had never been that soft.

On the chair beneath the hanging clothes was the windflower scarf the man always wore, Ichigo was more than aware from his conversations with Renji, that the scarf was worth ten mansions in Seireitei, and was apparently a family heirloom. Along side it were his fingerless tekkō, it was strange, at the time he hadn't even realised Byakuya wasn't wearing them, they were such an automatic part of his attire.

And there were the kenseikan, the ornate hairpieces were carefully tucked under the scarf. Ichigo nervously picked one up and was surprised by how light it felt, he'd expected something far heavier. Smooth under the fingertips and in a state of perfection, with no scratches or scrapes to be seen. If ever there was a visual representation of the Kuchiki pride, it was these hair ornaments.

“Please do be careful not to drop that, it is rather valuable.” Byakuya's voice nearly made him jump.

“A-Ah, I'm sorry, I was curious.” He gave the noble an awkward look.

“It's fine. I'm always content to educate people about my family.” The noble offered a twitch of his lips, “The kenseikan are a unique part of the Kuchiki Clan's history. The tradition of the Head of the Clan wearing them has dated back to the founder of the family. As long as it is more than one, the number of ornaments worn and the location is personal choice. I prefer to wear five, but it is not necessity.”

“Why must it be more than one?” Ichigo asked curiously, watching the man get to his feet.

“One kenseikan can be worn by high ranking officials of the Clan, or by someone who has gained the favour of the Head, or it can be gifted to a betrothed as a symbol of their meaning to the Head of the Clan.” Byakuya stretched cautiously as he spoke, sure that his grandfather would be proud that all those history lessons had made their mark.

“Did you present your wife with one when you were courting?” He tilted his head, not certain that Rukia had ever mentioned such a thing.

“Ah,” the raven haired man paused at the mention of Hisana and he smiled wistfully, “No, I did not. My marriage to her caused a great deal of tension within the family, it never felt entirely... Proper to present her with something which would draw so much attention to her against her will.”

“I think I understand.” Ichigo carefully put the hair piece back down, “Rukia always speaks highly of her sister, despite not knowing her.”

“My greatest regret is that they never reconciled while Hisana was still of this world. They look so alike, and yet their personalities could not be more different. Hisana was the quiet, observant type. Rukia...”

“Rushes in despite the danger, yells at everyone and causes a complete mess.” The strawberry smirked, “She's a fireball, nothing will ever change that.”

“I hope not.” Byakuya hummed.

Ichigo grabbed his own uniform and moved out of the way as Byakuya approached to retrieve his own. Sliding out of the white yukata he had put on the previous day, Ichigo turned his back on the noble, despite having been seen naked by him before, he found himself more bashful now. Previously he hadn't experienced emotions like shyness, but now he did and it was blooming in full glory.

He made quick work of getting dressed, feeling desperately more comfortable within the confines of his shihakusho. Running his fingers through his untameable hair he turned on the spot, instantly freezing as his eyes locked onto the turned back of the other man in the room.

While still mostly concealed by bandages, there was no hiding the defined curves of Byakuya Kuchiki's spine and hips, dipping down towards his-

Ichigo turned away, his face scarlet as heat flooded his body and sent shivers up and down his own spine, he listened carefully to the gentle rustle of clothes, only daring to look again when he was sure the noble was dressed.

As relieved as he was to see Byakuya now fully clothed, the noble seemed frustrated, struggling to put the kenseikan in his own hair due to his still present injury. Apparently, his arm was still causing some minor problems with mobility.

“Would you... Like some help?” Ichigo asked before he could stop himself.

The noble paused, seemingly calculating the chances of successfully putting them in himself before he huffed in defeated, “Yes.”

“You'll have to tell me what to do, I've got no clue.” The strawberry plodded over, forcing the man to sit down in the chair and standing in front of him as he handled the ornaments once again.

“Don't worry, they aren't overly complex, it is simply difficult to do one handed.” The noble offered a small smile and relayed instructions to him slowly.

It took a while for him to get to grips with what he was doing, but Byakuya was oddly patient with him, eyes closed and seemingly perfectly at peace with having the other man handle his hair. Eventually, Ichigo stepped away, happy with what he'd been able to do, and also pleased that Byakuya looked more like himself with them in place.

“You have my thanks.” The raven haired man stood again, double checking Ichigo's handiwork before nodding, “Perfect.”

“I... Was happy to help.” He mumbled a little awkwardly.

They shared a long look, neither mentioning their conversation from the previous night, or the fact they had fallen asleep together, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them that it was... Alright.

Startled by a sudden knock on the door, Ichigo smiled weakly as he watched Urahara carrying Zangetsu into the room, now free from the blue barrier that had separated them for what felt like forever.

“You will be needing this back, I believe, Kurosaki-san.” The blond offered the blade out to him.

Ichigo was hesitant to accept at first, remembering the last time he'd wielded the Zanpakutō, but after a reassuring nod from his Taichou, he took the hilt and gave it a few gentle swings, everything felt normal, “Thank you.”

“Do you have the modified Gikon I gave you?”

“I do.” Ichigo nodded once.

“Take one now, before you leave. Better safe than sorry.” Urahara instructed.

The Third Seat took the tube from his robes, removing one small blue pill and looking at it carefully for a long minute, “This is going to be so weird.” He muttered before swallowing it whole.

All eyes were on him, and for a moment he didn't think it had worked, but then he felt like he'd been drenched by a bucket of ice water. All the newly awakened feelings he'd been experienced remained, the warmth; the worry; the anger; the caution. They stayed swirling in the pit of his belly, but he felt his face shift into a more recognisable scowl as those emotions dulled to a bare minimum.

“How do you feel, Kurosaki-san?”

“Kind of normal... I can still feel but they're muted, dull... Controllable.” He muttered, he wasn't sure which he preferred, having full feelings or having dulled ones; he was sure there was a glimmer of sadness on Byakuya's face as well for a split second.

They ate a light breakfast with Urahara and Yoruichi before departing, the offer had been there to use Urahara's Senkaimon, but Byakuya had refused, purely out of concern that Aizen might recognise the location where it would drop them.

So, as they stood outside the store in the early morning sunlight, Ichigo brushed his shihakusho down, making sure he looked entirely as he should have done. It didn't take long for Byakuya to open the portal to Soul Society, and it took even less time for them to begin their passage through it, with a final wave to the pair in the World of the Living, Ichigo watched the doors slide shut behind them.

“Let's go, Ichigo.” The noble said, setting off at a brisk walk.

“Yes, sir.” He replied, keeping up easily.

“You remember the cover story, yes?”

“We were called away for an urgent mission in the World of the Living, where we were attacked by a Hollow; you were injured but escaped serious harm and we were able to kill it together, before seeking refuge for the night to tend to your wounds.” Ichigo recited by memory, after all, it wasn't entirely a lie.

“Perfect.” The noble nodded, “Once I am certain things are safe I intend to tell Renji what has transpired, he should know about Rukia, given his... Feelings for her.”

Ichigo blinked and stared at the raven haired male, “You know he's in love with her?”

“Of course, he isn't as subtle as he likes to think.” The man smirked faintly, “I have been waiting for him to approach me for months.”

“Cruel.”

“Possibly.” Byakuya chuckled, “But seeing him behave like the perfect gentleman whenever she enters a room is far too entertaining for me to simply let him off the hook.”

“He's going to flip his shit when he finds out, you know?” Ichigo snorted.

Byakuya fixed him with a dark yet playful look, “Oh I am well aware.”

“So cruel... I simply _have_ to be there when it happens.”

Ichigo fell silent as the end of the tunnel drew near, brilliant light almost blinding him before they jumped out, wind bustling around their bodies for only a few seconds before they landed nimbly on the grass. It took less than a minute for him to recognise that they were in the mid-section of walkway between Division Five and Six..

Breathing in the clear air of Soul Society, Ichigo turned towards Division Six, eager to get inside and evade Aizen for as long as he could while they came up with a plan to save Rukia, however, as he bumped into something hard and reluctant to move, he bounced off and hit the floor with a grunt.

Insides turning to ice as he recognised the reiatsu in front of him, he slowly lifted his gaze to meet the bespectacled one in front of him, “A-Aizen Taichou.”

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun.” The man smiled widely, “I thought I sensed your reiatsu returning, it's fortunate really, I have found some more of your things in your old room, I was hoping you'd come and remove them.”

“Really? I thought I got everything last time...” He replied, glancing at his current Taichou.

“I'm afraid not, would you be free to come and collect the items now?”

He didn't really have a choice, “Sure.” He muttered.

“Don't take long, Kurosaki, we have to debrief about the mission when you return.” Byakuya was a master at concealing his emotions without the use of a medicinal aid, it appeared, as the man was perfectly calm in Aizen's presence, despite everything they had discussed together in the World of the Living.

“I'll make sure he's back before nightfall.” Aizen stated coolly.

Ichigo was sure his stomach would have sunk at the idea of spending all day in Aizen's presence, but thankfully whatever was in that pill was working furiously and he was able to remain completely unresponsive.

As he was led away by a firm yet not out of place hand at his elbow, Ichigo could feel Byakuya's eyes burning into the back of his skull, he was going to have to be very careful and he knew it. Neither of them had expected Aizen to meet them as soon as they returned, they'd hoped for at least a few hours before Ichigo was summoned to reveal why they had disappeared.

There was one thing he knew for certain, he was going to have to put on the performance of a lifetime.


	11. Best Defence Is A Good Pretence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dangerous game of cat and mouse begins as Ichigo is forced to deal with Aizen's questions. One wrong move, one wrong answer and he knows he might never leave the man's office again. The performance of a lifetime begins.

Ichigo stood stiffly in front of Aizen's desk, watching the man cautiously as he sifted through some papers still lingering on the woodwork. Not a word had been spoken between them since he had been led away from his current Taichou; the silence made him slightly unsettled but nothing he couldn't control and conceal.

“Where have you been?” Aizen broke the silence first, not looking up from what he was doing.

“The World of the Living.” He replied plainly.

“With Kuchiki?” The disapproval was audible, “What was it this time?”

He was eternally grateful for the pills Urahara had given him, he was certain that without them he would currently be breaking into a sweat, “We had an urgent mission, a Hollow appeared and we went to clear the area. Kuchiki Taichou was injured in the fight and we were forced to seek shelter so I could attend to the wounds.”

“This is the second time you have gone on a mission with him, without first informing me.” The brunet finally lifted his gaze, there was no warmth in those eyes, just calculation and coldness.

“It wasn't planned on either occasion.” He was telling the truth technically, “I apologise that I wasn't able to relay some message to you, but honestly, I didn't have a say in the matter.”

“Hm.” Was the only response.

Ichigo swallowed, watching as Aizen slowly rose to his feet, stepping around the desk towards him; a hand came up and rested on the top of his head, ruffling his soft orange locks, it threw him, that sudden tenderness. It wasn't something he was used to from Aizen.

There was something in his eyes that was deeply uncomfortable, Ichigo recognised it to be akin to the kind of looks the man gave Hinamori. With a jolt, his hands shot out to deflect the blow aimed for his gut, wincing as a strong hand wrapped around his wrists and twisted him, pushing backwards over the desk.

“I'm impressed, there would have been a time when you'd never have seen that coming.” The brunet murmured, breath gently rolling over the shell of the younger man's ear, “Apparently, Kuchiki has had something of a positive effect on you, at least as far as your training is concerned.”

Gasping slightly, Ichigo twisted, trying to free himself despite knowing it was useless, “You didn't think I had been sat around doing nothing, did you?”

“I had wondered, after all, you've not delivered any new information for some time...” The man trailed off, feeling him wriggling beneath him.

“It's been difficult, he's become very cautious of what he says... I have to be careful or he will shut me out completely.” He grunted, swallowing as he felt a hand sliding up the inside of his leg.

“I see.” Aizen watched his reactions carefully, “And, what happened yesterday? I sensed the pair of you in Rukongai, shortly before your reiatsu became somewhat... Temperamental.”

Ichigo swallowed, peering up at him from the corner of his eyes, he could see the genuinely curious expression on his face and quickly considered what would be safe to respond with, if Aizen had gone to the trouble of sensing them that far away from the city, he would undoubtedly know exactly where they had been, “He took me to Fugai.”

The older man's eyes narrowed at the response, “Why there?”

“It is the place I have the earliest memories of, you know that... I've told you my story before.” He licked his lips, “I'd mentioned it in passing to him and he took me back there to... Talk.”

“About?”

“He suspected me of killing his Third Seat.” The strawberry said calmly, before continuing swiftly, “I was able to convince him of my innocence in the matter, but we clashed.”

“There was panic in your reiatsu.” It was a simple comment, but an observant one.

The Third Seat hesitated, closing his eyes and letting out a breath, “I had a... Very brief moment of panic, that is true... But I quashed it. It will not be happening again. I am still fit to do my duty.”

Aizen tilted his head slightly, hand still grazing his thigh thoughtfully before he released him and stepped back, “I didn't believe you were even equipped to feel panic... How did a man like Kuchiki rouse that from you?”

These questions were getting too in depth; he straightened and looked around at him, rubbing his wrists carefully, “Well, he was close to the truth for a while, it took a lot of persuasion to convince him otherwise.”

“I see.” There was something in the other man's expression which spoke volumes, and Ichigo felt himself quiver inwardly, but the moment passed and Aizen gripped his chin firmly, “It is getting close to the time when we will make our move, Ichigo, but we can't risk it until I am aware of everything Kuchiki knows so far...”

“I know, I'll try harder.” He whispered, swallowing at how close the other man's face was to his own.

Thumb brushing the bottom lip of the younger man, the brunet smirked softly, “I know you will. Things are growing urgent, and because of that... I am going to give you permission to do whatever it takes to get the information out of him.”

“Whatever... It takes?” He repeated uncertainly.

“Indeed,” Aizen closed the distance between them and pressed a lingering kiss against those lips, “You are an attractive man, Ichigo, I am certain Kuchiki is aware of that as well. Use it to your advantage.”

The bottom nearly dropped out of his stomach, along side the desire to flinch at that kiss, Aizen was giving him permission to break the rules, to seduce Byakuya for information. He would have jumped at the opportunity not long ago, he'd never been oblivious about the attraction the noble held, but now... It was complicated. He found himself in the position of respecting the man, of believing in him, of trusting in him.

Not that he had any plans of giving Aizen information anymore, but the mere idea that the man was willing for him to go to such lengths was... Surprising.

“I will do whatever it takes, Aizen Taichou.” He breathed.

“Good.” The brunet smirked a little wider, his thumb dancing across Ichigo's lips again, “But before you do so, I think I should make the point of ensuring you know who you truly belong to.”

Their lips clashed in a heated flurry of movement, Ichigo winced as he felt the clutch of Aizen's fingers around his face holding him tightly, so much so that he couldn't move. His back struck the bookshelf as he was pressed against it, the length of Aizen's body coming to rest against his. He felt fingers tugging at the sash around his waist.

There was a heart thundering moment when Ichigo realised exactly what was happening, he'd never imagined having to deal with Aizen sexually so soon after deciding it was necessary to maintain appearances. He closed his eyes, sucking in a breath. He had to rely on the modified Gikon, he had to believe Urahara knew what he was doing.

He hated the fact that his length hardened in response to the brunet's touch, his back arching despite his heart screaming in protest. A moan was sucked from his lips as Aizen's hand slipped within his hakama and circled the growing ache between his legs. It was tormenting, his body wanted but his mind didn't. His mind was submitting though. Protests silencing themselves in the wake of throbbing arousal.

But just as soon as the interaction had begun, it stopped and Aizen pulled away with a mild look of annoyance crossing his face. A second later, there was a knock on the office door. Ichigo immediately began correcting his clothing in response.

“Forgive the intrusion, Aizen Taichou!” The familiar voice of Ukitake left Ichigo feeling unbelievably relieved, watching the door open to reveal the white haired Taichou, “Oh! Ichigo-kun, I thought I sensed your reiatsu.”

“Ukitake Taichou, it's always a pleasure.” The strawberry inclined his head respectfully before glancing at Aizen, “Should I...”

“Yes.” Was the blunt reply, buffered only by the warm smile it was presented with.

Ichigo said his farewells to the two men and fled Aizen's office, sliding the door shut behind him and allowing a small breath to escape. It stuck in his throat as he realised just how close he'd come to having to face Aizen's insatiable sexual appetite. His body was still aching from the arousal, but it had dulled enough that he could concentrate again. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, the feeling of disgust now roused by the man's touch was almost too much to contain.

Now that he was out of sight of his former Taichou, he felt his shoulders sag somewhat, head falling forward as he began a slow walk out of his former Division, eager more than ever to return to his new home, though reluctant in the same breath.

He knew he would have to go and speak to Byakuya soon and tell him what had occurred, he wondered if he could omit the part where Aizen had tried to instigate something, considering everything he knew now the idea was embarrassing, even more so when he considered how he used to look forward to their... Intimacy.

He shivered, and was grateful to the control given to him by the medicine Urahara had synthesised for his use.

It was strange really, when he had been naturally devoid of emotions he had never believed he was missing out on anything; he had been content with where and what he was; content as Aizen's subordinate, content as Aizen's stress reliever, content as a traitor.

Everything was different now, he kind of missed the freedom of show fear and panic, as well as the warmth he'd experienced when Byakuya and he had stayed up talking the night before, repressing those feelings, no matter how terrifying they were when they hit him, made him feel like he was lacking something. He knew he'd never settle for being Aizen's underling again, nor his favoured method of relaxation, nor as a traitor. He wanted more.

Ichigo stopped outside of Division Six, glancing up towards where he could see his Taichou's office, even over the walls it was visible thanks to the hill it was situated on, he let out a small sigh as a gentle breeze fluttered through his hair.

“I wonder if you know how much of a difference you've made to me.” He breathed, he was smiling on the inside, even if his face currently couldn't show it.

With a sudden spring in his step, he decided to hunt Renji down and ask if he wanted to go for that drink in Rukongai, maybe they could invite Rukia if she was up to it, as well as some of their other friends, Kira; Hisagi; Hinamori and Matsumoto. He was sure they would wake up tomorrow with raging hang overs and get scolded by their superiors, but it would be worth it to spend some time with them, now he finally understood what it was like to feel like he had friends. Even if he couldn't show them yet, he wanted to make the effort.

* * *

Later that evening, Gin watched from the shadows as the abstract group of Shinigami pottered their way out of Seireitei and towards Rukongai, his own Fukutaichou among them, though his eyes were trained mostly on the berry haired man in the middle of the group.

Outwardly, Ichigo seemed no different to normal, but the mere fact that he was joining the group was out of the ordinary. He couldn't recall the last time the young man had accepted the offer of joining his 'friends' for drinks, and even more interestingly, Izuru had mentioned it had been Ichigo's idea.

With a crack of Shunpo, he arrived in Division Five, knocking on the office door of his former Taichou and letting himself in with a silent wicked grin.

“Gin.” The brunet said from behind the desk, writing up various reports which had been neglected through the day.

“Aizen Taichou.” The silver haired fox responded, leaning against the wall as he watched him, not saying anything for several long minutes.

Sighing, Aizen lowered his pen and looked up, “Are you here to annoy me or is there something you wish to say?”

“Eh...” He seemed to think about it before speaking again, “Did ya notice anything strange about Ichi-Berry?”

“What do you mean?” There was another sigh as he rested his chin on the heel of his hand, mildly agitated by the other man's unexpected presence.

Tipping his head curiously, Gin moved closer, “I mean... I know he was here earlier, did he seem his normal self to ya, Aizen Taichou?”

Slowly sitting back and taking in what his subordinate was asking, he came to the conclusion Gin wasn't trying to annoy him but was genuinely interested, which made him want to question why. He considered his earlier conversation with the strawberry and replayed everything over in his mind, on the face of it he wanted to say that Ichigo had been utterly normal, but upon taking a closer look a few things did stand out.

The Third Seat had seemed relatively disinterested in his sexual advances, barely even responding to being forced over his desk; he'd been evasive when answering questions and hadn't entirely maintained eye contact like he normally would. Despite showing no emotions on his face, his body language had been reserved, like he really didn't want to be there. Not to mention the look he'd shared with Kuchiki upon exiting the Senkaimon.

“Not entirely, no.” He replied finally, “Why do you ask?”

“Ne, I thought as much.” Gin touched his fingers to his lips in thought, “I've been followin' him today, keepin' out of sight for the most part. 'Nd right now he's in Rukongai drinkin' with Abarai, Hinamori, and a few others, accordin' to Izuru... It was Ichi-Berry's idea to meet up.”

Aizen nudged his glasses up as he listened, “What are you suggesting, Gin?”

“I'm not sure, but somethin' clearly ain't right with him at the moment... Did he tell ya what happened yesterday?”

“Partly. Apparently, there was a spat between himself and Kuchiki but... Admittedly, I struggle to believe such a thing would have had an effect on his reiatsu as he claims...” He trailed off, frowning deeply, “Keep monitoring him. If he continues to act differently I want you to report back to me straight away. Make sure to keep your distance, I don't want him realising he is under suspicion. You may leave.”

“Of course, Aizen Taichou.” The man bowed and turned to leave, lingering by the door for a long moment, “Ne, Taichou... What will ya do if it turns out he's turned on ya?”

“You may leave, Gin.” Was his only response.

Aizen waited until his subordinate was gone and slowly got to his feet, pacing near the window for several long minutes. Gin's question had struck a nerve, and the silver haired man probably knew it as well.

If Ichigo really was turning on him it would mean years of work and dedication washed down the drain, it would be a waste of enormous potential, and more than anything else it would be a massive risk to his plans. Ichigo was aware of almost all of them, such was the level of trust he'd placed in the young man's loyalty.

Out of all his subordinates, Ichigo was the one he trusted the most, marginally due to the fact that if the young man couldn't feel he couldn't be swayed by guilt or temptation. That meagre fact left him wondering what the hell would sway the strawberry haired Shinigami away from their cause.

With a growl he came to a single conclusion, “Kuchiki.”

* * *

Ichigo swayed under Renji's weight, half carrying the man back into Division Six; he turned and waved casually to Hisagi, Matsumoto and Rukia as they made their way back to their own Divisions. Kira had left them when they'd passed Division Three, and Hinamori when they'd passed Division Five.

The pleasant buzz of one too many drinks made Ichigo's head feel warm and fuzzy, his body not feeling entirely like his own as he lurched his way towards Renji's room, planning to drop the redhead off before retiring as well.

It had been a good night, and he was surprised by how happy his friends were for him to spend time with them, even if he was still as anti-social as always, they simply seemed happy to be able to meet up and let off some steam together. What surprised him more, however, was just how happy it had made him as well.

Successfully unlocking the Fukutaichou's living quarters, he hefted the practically dead weight inside, grunting as Renji seemed to grow even heavier the closer they got to his bedroom, and it was while balancing Renji one on side and trying to fight the bedroom door open with his elbow that the fiery redhead suddenly jolted in an unexpected motion, tilting Ichigo off balance.

The pair crashed to the floor in a heap, with Renji flopping very inelegantly on top of his friend, the impact seemed to rouse the redhead a little more from his drink induced doze and he blinked blearily at the strawberry beneath him.

“Whatcha doing on the floor, Ichigo?” The Fukutaichou grumbled, eyelids heavy and clearly close to sleep again.

“Oh ya know, just fancied chilling out.” He replied dryly, “Get off me you lump and go to bed.”

“Such a misery guts, even when you're plastered.” Renji staggered to his feet, wobbling on the spot.

Rolling his eyes, he too stood back up, the room spinning very slightly, “Renji?”

“What?” The man asked, sliding his sandals off as he headed for the bedroom with renewed finesse.

He paused, smiling, “Thank you.”

That caught Renji's attention and he looked over at the strawberry, looking startled at the expression on his face. For the first time in his life, he could see warmth in those chestnut eyes, “I-Ichigo?”

Ichigo couldn't quite bring himself to deny the smile, instead hastening for the door, “I'll see you tomorrow!”

Hurrying out before his friend could say another word, he closed it behind him and bolted towards his own room, dashing inside and locking the entrance behind him, swiftly taking his new medication and swallowing hard. He hadn't even meant to smile, but maybe the alcohol made the pills wear off faster. Either way, he was sure Renji was drunk enough not to remember come morning.

Grabbing a glass of water on the way to the bedroom, Ichigo gulped several sips down before flopping onto the comfortable mattress of his bed, arms and legs sprawling out as he buried his face in the pillows, releasing a relaxed sigh as sleep quickly took him and he sank into fitful dreams.


	12. Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he prepares to talk to Byakuya about the meeting with Aizen, Ichigo finds Renji waiting for him in the Division Six Taichou's office. A hard conversation follows and yet in the midst of it all Ichigo feels hopeful.

Much as he had expected, when Ichigo woke he had a pounding headache and a hangover from hell, half falling out of bed he barely made it to the safety of the toilet basin before he threw up, clasping the edges like they were they difference between life and death itself.

Slithering out of his soiled uniform and into the shower, he groaned as he washed himself, inwardly hoping the combination of soap and hot water would ease some of his pain. He was going to kill Matsumoto the next time he saw her, she had been the one to introduce shots in the midst of the saké they had been throwing back. Everything had been fine until that point.

Clambering back out of the shower, he dried off and pulled on a fresh shihakusho, grabbing his mood suppressors from the dirty one which he left on the bathroom floor, deciding he'd deal with the mess later. He resisted the urge to pop one of the pills, he wanted to see Byakuya and talk about his meeting with Aizen soon, he wanted to _feel_ while doing so.

Right now the only thing he was interested in was a strong cup of tea and pain relief. With sluggish movements he completed his morning rituals and opted to sate his craving, downing three cups of the beverage before he even remotely began to feel Human again.

The only thing which gave him any pleasure was knowing that Renji would be in just as much discomfort.

Wincing at the bright morning light as he left his room, fourth cup of tea very much in hand, he decided to venture to Byakuya's office, residing himself to tell him about his talk with Aizen the day before.

Rapping his knuckles against the door and waiting patiently, he glanced around the Division behind him, there was a strange tickle on the back of his neck which suggested he was being watched, but he couldn't see anyone obviously burrowing a hole with their eyes.

Almost falling as the door opened suddenly, he looked around to see the very bloodshot eyes of his friend standing in front of him, “Renji! I wasn't expecting you to be awake this early.”

“Mm.” Was the only reply he got.

“I'm here to see Kuchiki Taichou, is he in?”

“Mm.” The redhead stepped back and ushered Ichigo inside, sliding the door shut behind him before returning to his seat in front of the noble's desk.

The moment the door shut, Ichigo felt a dense tension slide over the room, it was all encompassing and inescapable, impossible to ignore and looking between his Taichou and Fukutaichou he could see they were equally as uncomfortable.

“Did I... Interrupt something?” He asked.

“In a manner of speaking.” Byakuya murmured, taking a breath, “I have been filling Abarai in on... Everything.”

Ichigo's back stiffened and he could barely bring himself to meet Renji's gaze for fear of what he'd see there, swallowing, he glared at the cup in his hand instead, “Would it be easier for me to come back later?”

“No.” The raven haired Kuchiki said bluntly, adjusting the scarf around his shoulders before glancing at Renji, “You understand don't you, Abarai?”

Renji's reaction was barely more than a huff, “Yes, Taichou.”

The Third Seat hovered, he couldn't help but wonder how Renji had initially reacted to the news. The knowledge that the person who was meant to be his best friend had not only been lying to him for the past several years, but had also butchered one of his subordinates and conspired to betray Soul Society. Ichigo gulped back his worry.

“I... I understand if you hate me, Renji... I would in your position...” He raised his head slowly, meeting the look of fury aimed at him as the redhead got to his feet.

He'd expected several reactions, shouting and screaming, maybe some shaking and ranting. But he hadn't quite anticipated Renji punching him in the face. Ichigo hit the floor, feeling the lukewarm dregs of his tea splash over his chest as he clutched his mouth, the first tepid drips of blood staining his skin. He could have dodged it, he was sure everyone present knew that. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. A punch in the face, after years of lies, was the least he deserved.

“Hate you?!” Renji barked, “You think I hate you? Idiot!”

“Why wouldn't you hate me?” Ichigo staggered to his feet as he wiped his smeared palm on his uniform, ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue, “I've played you for almost as long as we've known each other. Lied, cheated, betrayed and plotted behind your back. I would have killed you if _he_ had asked me to.”

“I don't believe that, not even for a second!” The Fukutaichou clenched a fist, “Killing someone you barely know is nothing... But someone you grew up with, someone who's practically family? I don't believe you could have done it.”

“You're still being blind!” The strawberry snapped suddenly, anger flaring uncharacteristically, “All these years, and you've never seen what was right under your nose! I felt nothing towards you, nothing towards Rukia, I didn't _care_ about you. I didn't _like_ you. I _used_ you.”

“I don't believe you.” Renji's jaw tightened, “I knew you had problems, I knew you were distant and cold and struggled to feel things. But if what you're saying is true... Why did you storm into Kuchiki Taichou's office when we found out he was planning to graduate Rukia before the end of the academic year? Why did you fight so hard to let her have her independence? I was a nervous wreck facing him about it! But you? You were bold, strong and determined. Do you think for one minute you would have done that if you didn't at least care a little bit, Ichigo?”

Ichigo faltered, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something to explain his actions, instead his shoulders slumped, “Maybe you're right. Maybe you're not. I don't know... But even if it is true... I murdered innocent people, plotted to kill more... How can you not hate me for that?”

“Because, idiot, I am your friend.” The redhead's voice was barely more than a growl, “I am _furious_ with you. For isolating yourself, for never opening up properly, and for thinking I'm too thick to understand what was wrong with you. But... I will never. Ever. Hate. You.”

“What would you have wanted me to say?!” He exclaimed, “'Hi Renji, just so you know, I've been merrily plotting the downfall of Seireitei with my Taichou slash fuck buddy'?! Do you think it's easy for me to open up to you, even now?!”

Renji looked set to reply, but his eyes widened suddenly, “Wait... Fuck buddy? Holy shit... Hinamori was right all along...”

Spluttering in disbelief, Ichigo's gaze snapped to the nobleman who was still sat so calmly behind his desk, “You didn't tell him about me sleeping with... Wait-wait-wait... What do you mean Hinamori was right?!”

Renji shrugged, “She suggested something was going on... It doesn't matter! You should have said something! Anything!”

Byakuya cleared his throat, “I was merely attempted to spare your embarrassment.”

“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes in defeat and ran a hand through his hair, “Renji... The truth is that I really fucked up. Badly. And now, I'm in an impossible situation, and it terrifies me. Or... It does now I can feel again. I've been an idiot... Blind, and gullible and... I'm sorry. I am so... Sorry. I've been a shit friend.”

His friend faltered at his brutal candidness, reaching out and gently resting a hand on his shoulder, “It's okay. From what Taichou has said it doesn't sound like all of it is your fault, you were... Manipulated horribly by a man you should have been able to trust. He's a monster.”

The strawberry chuckled weakly, “Story of my life I guess,” he glanced at the third person in the room again, “Did you tell him everything? About... My old life as well?”

“Yes, he is aware of absolutely every detail. I considered concealing it initially, but... Somehow I think he would have seen through it.” Byakuya replied simply, “I have also brought him up to speed on everything concerning... What we spoke about at Urahara's.”

“I see.” He hummed, letting out a long breath, “I came here to talk to you about what happened with Aizen yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Renji frowned.

“Mm,” he nodded once, “When we came back he was waiting for us, he took me back to his office so we could talk.”

“I am assuming he wanted to know why we disappeared.” Byakuya tutted.

“Yeah, as well as why I haven't been reporting back any recent information.” He slowly moved around and took a seat, sitting back, “I fed him the story we came up with about why we went missing, and he seemed to believe me. But there's really no way to know for sure.”

“We will have to wait and see, there's nothing else we can do in relation to that,” the noble mused, “Was anything else discussed?”

“Yes...” he trailed off, picking at his sleeve thoughtfully for a moment, “He... Ugh this is awkward, he instructed me to seduce you in order to gain information.”

“Excuse me?” Byakuya's eyes widened for half a second, “Seduce me?”

“I said it was awkward.” He grumbled, “It's not like I'm going to follow through with it, I don't have any reason to report back anymore but... It's going to become glaringly obvious to him that I've betrayed him if I don't start feeding him something.”

Renji glanced between the two men, they seemed so comfortable with each other now, a vast difference to how they had been even as recently as a month ago. To him, at least, it seemed like there was some unspoken bond between them, something they shared irrevocably and possibly without realising it themselves.

Last night was a blur for the redhead, he barely remembered anything after the shots had appeared at the table, but there was one memory which seared deeply into the forefront of his mind. Ichigo's smile. They'd known each other for a long time, the years had gone so quickly, and yet he could remember them all and not even once had Ichigo flashed him a smile that showed even an inch of truth behind it.

He'd known for a long time that his friend was broken, the facade he wore day after day had grown stronger with each passing year but to someone who had been watching for so long, it was just a mask. He'd tried to find out why Ichigo never really smiled or showed any kind of emotion, but he'd never managed to reach the bottom of that rather troublesome puzzle.

Other people had fallen for Ichigo's tricks, thinking he was just awkward or uncomfortable, but Renji never had. There'd been something missing, something which had been stolen along with that smile. Last night had been a shock, seeing that warmth in his eyes had shaken him to the core, so much so that he hadn't slept and had imposed upon his Taichou at a ridiculous hour. For once, the noble had been understanding, almost seeming to expect him, and it had been at that moment he had begun to discover the true depths of Ichigo's life.

It had sickened him, at first, to realise that the person he considered his best friend was a traitor, that he had murdered their previous Third Seat in such a brutal and horrific manner. But when Byakuya had defended him he realised there had to be more to it, because if someone who adhered to the rules as much as him could defend betrayal there was something far bigger at play.

Hearing about Ichigo's Human life was hard, to find out that something so horrific had happened at the hands of a man like Aizen, someone who commanded the respect of his subordinates and fellow Taichou. Realising just how far the man had sunk into darkness was a worrying development, but it had helped him to understand Ichigo better, to understand his distance and disconnection to the world around him.

It made so much more sense to him, he'd been confused when Ichigo had appeared on his doorstep the evening before and asked if they could get everyone together for drinks. It was so utterly out of character, something he didn't think Ichigo had ever done in fact. He'd tried to ignore it at first, simply happy his friend wanted to spend time with everyone and have fun, but now that he was up to speed he realised that it had been Ichigo's first step in trying to put things right, in his own way.

He had missed out on so much, on so many things because of his life style, he'd pushed people away and been purposefully cold, and now he was trying to pick up the pieces and put everything back together again. Renji was kind of honoured to know that the first step had started with him.

Even now Ichigo was talking more animatedly than he'd ever known him to, clearly passionate and determined. Smiling faintly, Renji finally sat back down as well, eyes moving to his Taichou, there was something different about him as well, a certain glimmer in his eyes that he'd never noticed before.

“Renji,” the noble suddenly interrupted his thoughts, “I want you to increase the amount of time you spend with Rukia, if Aizen ever finds out about her... He will try to take her from us by force. I am trusting you with her safety.”

Eyes widening slightly, Renji swallowed hard and nodded, “I will not let you down, Taichou.”

“I know.” There was the faintest glimmer of a smile there before it was gone again, “She is at Division Four currently, last nights' antics apparently did not agree with her. Feel free to head over when you are ready and find any excuse to stick by her side.”

“I will go now.” The redhead jumped back up, pausing and glancing at Ichigo, smiling at him toothily, “We are definitely going drinking again when this is all over, I want to get to know the real you when you're off those pills. You'd best not disappoint me!”

Ichigo looked surprised at his demands, but shock soon turned to relief and a warm smile spread across his face, “You can count on it, Renji. The first round... Is on me.”

“Well, if that doesn't tell me you've changed I don't know what will.” His grin only widened before he departed with all the grace of a hurricane.

As the door slammed shut, Ichigo turned his attention back to Byakuya, sighing deeply as he considered the entire event which had just unfolded. He couldn't quite believe that Renji didn't hate him, or want him dead, it was even more unbelievable that he still wanted to be his friend. Maybe he hadn't been giving him enough credit, although he had to admit his face was aching like mad. He'd forgotten how hard Renji could punch.

“Are you alright?” Byakuya asked quietly.

“Yeah, unexpectedly.” He murmured.

“Renji really seems to care about you, I'm guessing you never realised before.”

“You're right.” He agreed, feeling a little guilty, “But I'm glad I saw it before it was too late. He's a good guy.”

“Mm, after all, you are not the only one he has had to forgive for having the emotional range of a teaspoon.” The noble smirked faintly, “I didn't believe he would still want to be my Fukutaichou after everything that happened when I adopted Rukia into my family.”

“Believe me, I sometimes wonder how the two of you didn't kill each other.” Ichigo snorted as he reluctantly pulled his mood suppressors from his pocket and swallowed one, “But things seemed to have... Worked out well.”

“I agree.” The raven haired man stood up, walking around the desk towards his subordinate, he glanced down at him, “Come, let us walk.”

Together they walked their way out of the Division, meandering their way through Seireitei until the sight of cherry blossoms caught Ichigo's attention and he found himself stood at the entrance to the Kuchiki Estate. He'd never set foot anywhere near it before, and it was far more elaborate than he had ever imagined. Blossoms lined every walkway and littered around the grounds like pink beacons; the sound of running water drew his gaze and he took a few minutes to appreciate the fresh water streams trickling through the area, leading towards a vast koi pond around the side of the mansion.

“You live here?” He breathed.

“When I am off duty, yes.” The noble led him down the front path, taking the side route towards the pond he had seen only moments ago, it was even larger up close.

“It's beautiful.” He felt a lump in his throat, never having been so enamoured by his surroundings alone.

“Thank you.”

Ichigo cast his eyes around with interest as they sat at the edge of the water, he could see various smaller buildings scattered around the edges of the land, as well as what appeared to be the entrance to a graveyard site, he had heard the Kuchiki Estate had its own cemetery, specially reserved for the passing of its' leaders, but it was still strange to actually see it. He couldn't quite believe how large the land was, he was sure that if he stood at one of the far sides he wouldn't be able to see the other with any kind of ease.

“Now that we are away from prying eyes and pricked ears,” Byakuya glanced at him, “How are you feeling?”

“I'm alright,” he answered, “I've been repressing my emotions as best I can, aside from a slip up last night. Turns out alcohol makes the effect wear off quicker, so I'll remember for next time.”

“I was worried when you didn't come back last night, I feared Aizen had done something to you.”

“I... I apologise.” He swallowed, “I wanted to start repairing my friendships and... Completely forgot to report back.”

“I'm not angry, I'm glad you are making an effort with your friends, Rukia seemed particularly elated when she popped by last night.” The noble sighed softly, “Did anything else happen, while you were with Aizen?”

“No... Not really.” He shrugged and then paused, grimacing slightly, “Actually... I think I owe Ukitake Taichou a very big drink though. Aizen was getting... Well, you know... Demanding.”

“So soon?” Byakuya frowned, “Thank the Soul King for Jūshirō then.”

“You seem troubled by it, I already told you I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep up appearances.” Ichigo couldn't help but notice the expression on the other's face.

“Regardless, it is hard not to be disturbed by the idea.”

“Even more so when he started making advances almost right after suggesting I seduce you.” He scoffed, “I mean, I know I'm attractive but even I can't work miracles.”

“Oh?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Well, you had a wife,” the strawberry laid back on the grass, allowing his legs to stretch out as he gazed up at the bright blue sky which was occasionally intruded upon by the waving branches of pink blossoms overhead, “Everyone knows you've never had another partner since she passed away.”

Byakuya chuckled softly at his words, thinking about Hisana for a long moment, “She was beautiful, every inch a noble in every way except her birth. And you are correct, I have not sought another partner since her death, but that doesn't mean I never would.”

“Yeah, but Kuchiki honour and all that, I bet there's some rule somewhere about not sleeping with other men, right?” He closed his eyes and yawned softly.

“There might be,” he agreed, looking down at him, “However, you may have realised that I have been breaking quite a few rules recently.”

“That's true enough, I can honestly say it still surprises me.” Ichigo put his hands behind his head and enjoyed the sound of the fish swimming around near his feet, “It's funny really, I don't think I ever failed a mission for him.”

“It would be a great shame to tarnish that record.”

Ichigo snorted at that, but was silenced by the sensation of satin soft lips brushing his own with a tentative delicacy; his eyes flashed open for confirmation and his face tinged red as he saw that veil of raven hair fluttering against his cheek, smelled the subtle fragrance of blossom. He wasn't imagining it. Byakuya Kuchiki was...

Reaching up carefully, he slid his fingers into the plush locks of dark hair and allowed his eyes to slide shut as he gave into the feeling of lips persistent on his own, a shuddering groan escaping him as the noble's tongue slipped into his mouth and twirled with his own.

Warmth blossomed in his chest, giving him a fluttering feeling of flight, swallowing hard as the noble slowly pulled back, soft flush on pale cheeks; the strawberry looked up at him with an innocent surprise, allowing his hand to fall back to his side.

“As I said,” Byakuya's voice was subtly shaky, “It would be a shame to tarnish your record.”

“I...” He trailed off, not sure his brain was working well enough to form a sentence, “You like guys?”

“I don't believe in labels.” The noble's lips twitched towards a half smile.

There was a heavy rushing sound in his ears as his eyes fixed on that smile, he swore to the Soul King that Byakuya Kuchiki had never looked quite that sexy before, and as if to prove that point, he leaned up abruptly and clasped the back of the man's head, pulling him back in for a second kiss.

Rougher and less hesitant, lips and tongues tangled as fingers found hair or clothing, drawing on anything they could to be as close as possible. Confidence grew and Ichigo felt his back hit the floor again as Byakuya pinned him in place, bodies pressing against one and other in a heated meeting.

When they parted, Ichigo was pleased to see that the noble was just as undone as he was, the variable blush on his face glowing brightly, mirroring his own. The younger man panted softly, gazing up at his superior with a vaguely confused expression.

“What's that face for?” The noble asked quizzically, running a finger down his cheek.

“Is this... Because you don't want me to tarnish my reputation or...” He trailed off, struggling to find the words, “Something more?”

Byakuya seemed genuinely bemused for a moment, a single eyebrow quirked, “Do you truly believe I would kiss you for the sake of proving a point to Aizen?”

“So... You like me?” He couldn't help but ask.

“That should be obvious.”

“Since when? I mean how long...”

“Does it really matter?” When Byakuya received a sharp look in return he sighed, “When you and Renji stormed into my office after I adopted Rukia and told me that if I didn't look after her properly I'd have to deal with the pair of you, I was impressed. I could tell that Renji was nervous, scared even, but you? You were bold, daring and confident. You didn't care about my position or my personal opinion. Honestly? No one has ever challenged me like that.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, casting his mind back, “But that was... During Shino.”

“Yes.”

“It's been three... Nearly four years since then!”

“Yes?” The noble said again.

The strawberry blinked, “You've liked me for that long, and never said a word?”

“Why would I?” He rolled onto his side, brushing his fingers over Ichigo's cheek, “I was very aware of Aizen's reiatsu on your body and knew it wasn't my place to interfere.”

He balked at the revelation, “You can sense reiatsu to that degree?”

“As easily as breathing.”

Ichigo rolled onto his side as well, propping his head up as a thought occurred to him, “Is that why you said you felt guilty that you hadn't recruited me for Division Six before Aizen snagged me?”

“In part.” He nodded.

Blowing out a breath, Ichigo felt slightly uncertain, “You know I've never... I mean... Relationships...”

“You don't have to explain.”

“I do though.” He muttered, running a hand through his strawberry locks, “I mean... I had my share of partners through Shino, I wasn't exactly shy about having sex. But... They were flings, nothing more. Aizen is... Kind of the only long term 'relationship' I've ever had. So, I don't exactly have a good experience with that kind of thing.”

“I'm not expecting anything, Ichigo, admittedly... Kissing you was an impulse...” The noble smiled faintly, apparently slightly embarrassed, “I don't expect commitment beyond what you are willing to offer... It is simply a relief to have shared my own... Feelings shared and in the open at last.”

Ichigo sat up, resting an arm on his knee as he considered his words, “Byakuya...”

“Mm?”

“I know my emotions are back, and I have felt a lot of things because of it but...” He paused, shoulders slumping slightly, “I don't know if I would ever be able to love you.”

“Ichigo I don't expect you to-”

“That's not it!” He cut him off, fisting a handful of grass, “You deserve someone who can give you that. It's not about expecting it, it's about deserving it. And... I know that I like you, I worry for you... I do. But I don't know if I am capable of more than that.”

Byakuya sat up slowly, resting his hand over Ichigo's clenched one, “You talk about what I deserve as if it's the only important part of this. It's about what you deserve as well. And you deserve someone who is willing to give you the time and patience to become yourself again, and that is what I want to give you. What ever you decide to offer, what ever you decide you want... I am content to simply see you make your own choices.”

His hand relaxed slowly and he turned it, linking their fingers without a thought, “I... I guess that is a good start.”

“I agree.”

“You know...” Ichigo hesitated, “There's a lot of stuff you still don't know about me... About stuff I've done... I've made a massive mess of everything and no matter how hard I try, I'm not sure I'll ever put it all right...”

“I am willing to listen if you ever desire to share your thoughts. But I shall not pressure you into it.” The nobleman said quietly.

“I'll tell you sometime. Not right now... But... You'd best be prepared for a shock.” He muttered.

Ichigo shivered as he felt the other man's reiatsu reach out and tangle with his own, it was a subtle; tender action meant to be comforting and soothing, but all it did was ignite the fire he'd felt previously and he allowed his own power to mingle, trying to express himself better through it than with words.

There was no reluctance or misinterpretation, just acceptance and understanding. It was far more soothing than any physical touch he had ever received. He felt himself relax and slowly allowed his body to rest back against the chest of the nobleman, feeling arms encircle him protectively.

“We just had to make this more complicated huh?” He murmured softly as he looked at the pond again.

“Life is only worth living when you have things and people of importance around you. We have a tough fight heading our way, I for one am pleased to have made myself clear before it hits.”

Ichigo made a small sound of agreement, his head was buzzing with thoughts. Finally, things were beginning to make sense. His instinctual desire to protect the nobleman in the World of the Living, his inability to outright lie to his face for long, the unexpected trust he put in the man, the safety he felt at his side. His instincts had known, seemingly long before he had, that there was something deceptively special about the Kuchiki heir.


	13. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the danger, Ichigo and Byakuya continue to get closer. The Third Seat knows he can count of Byakuya to be there for him whenever his awakened emotions get too much for him, and with the right support he is beginning to get a better understanding of exactly who he is and what he wants.

Ichigo hissed as he felt the sting of steel against his ribs and he quickly darted back three paces, panting softly as he watched Byakuya prowl around the training ring like a predator hunting his prey.

“Focus. You cannot afford to allow your mind to wander in the midst of true battle, it will get you killed.” The nobleman said firmly.

“I know, I know.” The strawberry muttered in response, huffing as he returned to his beginning stance, eyes following the Taichou's movements like a hawk.

They prowled for what felt like several long minutes, but it was closer to seconds. Both disappearing in a flicker of Shunpo at the same time, darting around the ring with flashes of sparks spluttering away from the meeting of their blades.

It was violent and hard, Zangetsu's huge mass clashing against the elegant slick steel of Senbonzakura. It was reminiscent of the first time they'd trained together, but the tension which had flowed so heavily between them at the time had long dispersed following their clandestine talk by the koi pond.

Training every evening had become something Ichigo looked forward to, despite still being unable to make any advancement towards beating the noble's Shikai. He was proud to say he normally came out of the flurry of petals with fewer cuts than he used to and Byakuya had assured him he wouldn't let up at all just because they had a shared fondness for one and other.

It had been little over a month since that day at the Kuchiki Estate, Ichigo couldn't believe how fast the time passed him by. While Renji maintained an almost constant guard over Rukia, Ichigo spent every waking hour he wasn't fulfilling his Third Seat duties and training, to join Byakuya in researching a safe way to extract the Hōgyoku from Rukia without putting her in danger.

It had resulted in him spending a lot of time with the Kuchiki heir, not that he minded. It was nice seeing more of him, there was none of the twisted discomfort that had come from his loyalty to Aizen. Instead it was simple. Subordinate and superior. Friends, maybe more. Hopefully more...

Ichigo threw his weight forwards as their blades clashed again, eyes widening as it threw them both off balance. He released a small grunt as he hit the sand and sighed loudly, barely raising his head to meet Byakuya's almost invisible amusement.

That was one thing for sure, now that there were no barriers between them he was noticing the microscopic behaviours he was certain Byakuya prided himself for keeping well hidden. Secret smiles, annoyed eye twitches, boyish humour. Byakuya Kuchiki wasn't the cold, distant man he lead everyone to believe, he was simply good at hiding things behind a veil of prudish stoicism.

Learning those tiny details, memorising them, had become something of a hobby. Like a new addiction formed in the dying embers of his former sexual deviance. He didn't mind. It was nice. No longer relying on sex as a fuel, sometimes he found himself craving more, craving that adrenaline rushing feeling of orgasm but... He felt more alive for simply being able to appreciate the world as it was.

Not that every moment between them was innocent. There were stolen kisses when no one else was around, mostly hidden behind closed doors. There was no point taking unnecessary risks. But if there was one thing Ichigo knew for certain, one sampling of satin soft Kuchiki lips had been enough to hook him for life.

“We'll leave it there for this evening.” Byakuya chuckled softly, rising from the sand and brushing the tiny grains from his otherwise immaculate uniform, “You're progressing nicely Ichigo. While you still struggle against Senbonzakura's power you are focusing more on the technicalities of footwork and stances. I know you have an excellent knowledge of such things already, but experience and expansion on knowledge is never a bad thing.”

“Thank you Taichou.” The strawberry offered a lip twitch at best as he stood up, rubbing the shallow scrape on his ribs, “I feel like I'm getting more familiar with the pattern of your attacks, but every so often you throw a curve ball.”

“One must be unpredictable to maintain the upper hand in battle.” The Kuchiki heir mused, “Come, we shall refresh ourselves in the bathhouse.”

The familiar routine was almost homely. Training would go on for at least an hour, at most two, and afterwards they would spend a little time in the bathhouse to clean up and rejuvenate after the strain of battle.

For the most part, Ichigo had overcome the shyness of exposing himself in front of the man, though once in a while that discomfort would make itself known and instead of bathing alongside the Kuchiki heir, he would opt to sit at the sides with a towel around his waist, simple enjoying dipping his feet in the water. Byakuya never commented on it. That promise of time seemed genuine.

Sucking in a breath, he decided he wouldn't allow that shyness to descend tonight and as soon as the door of the changing rooms was closed he began divesting himself of his clothes before he could back out of it. He was already down to his underwear when he realised Byakuya was beside him, removing his kenseikan, scarf and gloves with graceful motions that seemed almost fluid.

“How long did it take you to reach Bankai?” Ichigo found himself asking as he slipped out of his underwear and carefully dipped into the hot spring, turning so he could watch Byakuya's expression.

“Many years.” The noble replied, “Shikai was easy enough for someone with my reiatsu and command. Senbonzakura was more willing to surrender those secrets. Bankai took decades to unlock, and decades longer to master. I believe I have mastered it now, but I am always willing to learn more from him if he is willing to offer it. Why do you ask?”

Shrugging, the strawberry ducked his head to hide the flush covering his cheeks as he felt the water shift around him as the raven haired man sat beside him instead of opposite him, “I dunno, Aizen pushed so hard for me to reach Bankai, he was always certain I was close to achieving it but the harder I try the more Zangetsu seems to pull away.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Mm.” Ichigo sighed softly, “I haven't been a very good master... We don't talk much. I suck at sensing reiatsu, so getting into my Inner World always takes a lot of time and effort. Apart from calling him into manifestation we don't communicate all that much.”

“Then perhaps that is where you must begin making amends. Perhaps if you earn Zangetsu's trust he will be more willing to offer you his secrets.” Byakuya leaned back casually and sighed as he sank a little lower into the water, “We are one and the same with our Zanpakutō, Ichigo. Respect yourself, respect him. Things will come easier after that.”

Mulling over his superior's wisdom on the matter, Ichigo nodded silently. It was a good idea to begin talking to Zangetsu more. Even if the Old Man was grumpy and uncommunicative, maybe that simply reflected Ichigo's own personality.

“As much as I loathe to bring it up while we are resting so peacefully,” Byakuya's voice seemed to catch, “Are things going positively with Aizen?”

Huffing, the strawberry gave a small frown, “Everything seems to be... Normal I guess. He's content with the information I'm giving him, no matter how small it is. Escaping his clutches... Is getting harder every time I see him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How so?” His head tilted in concern.

Releasing a small shudder, Ichigo dared to meet his steel gaze, “Well, after all he ordered me to seduce you for information. So as far as he is aware, as of now we are sleeping together. He's territorial of the things, and people, he considers to belong to him. He will be wanting to reassert his authority, make sure his mark is still on me.”

The white hot flash of anger the noble felt barely caused his expression to change, but his lips thinned a little, “That bastard...”

“I'm dealing with it as best I can. Excuses, preplanned meetings. Hinamori has been invaluable, despite not knowing it. She keeps popping in and interrupting. It's pissing him off but... It's working for the moment.”

“And when it stops working?”

Byakuya's question hung heavy above them, the atmosphere chilling despite the warmth of the water, because they were both aware that it _would_ stop working eventually.

“I'll do what I have to. To ensure I survive long enough to help Rukia. I swore that.” Ichigo looked away indignantly, “I am still willing to do that.”

“What if I am not willing for you to do it?” The Taichou's voice was low, serious.

“What?” He blinked in confusion.

Byakuya sighed softly, his expression pinched as he turned to face the Third Seat fully, reaching out to caress his cheek before gently capturing the strawberry's chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting Ichigo's head back so they were looking eye to eye.

“Ichigo...” His voice was tender, soft, barely above a strained whisper, “I know what we said, what you said. I know as a matter of life and death you would have little choice but that doesn't mean I want you to be in that situation.”

“Byakuya...” Ichigo hesitated, the man's name still felt foreign on his tongue but he couldn't help but use it, “We've been over this. It's not what I want either, but I may end up not having a choice.”

“That doesn't mean I am not permitted to be concerned.” Steel eyes threatened to burrow into him with their intensity, the unhappy look on the Kuchiki heir's face was prominent, “I... I care about you, your well-being... I want to see you free of him for good. I don't want anything bad to befall you because of me.”

Lowering his gaze, unable to take the brightly burning emotion in Byakuya's eyes any longer, “I know... I know. It's a shit situation to be stuck in. And I appreciate you concern, you know I do, I just-”

Silenced by a chaste kiss, Ichigo released a breath through his nose as he melted into the touch he felt on his face. Soft fingertips gliding over his cheekbones, brushing the shell of his ear, combing through his hair. His arms rose and encircled the noble's shoulders loosely as he allowed himself to be pulled closer by the arm now resting around his waist. He found himself seated snugly in the noble's lap, a shiver running over his skin at just how close they were.

A subtle flick of Byakuya's tongue coaxed his mouth open, allowing the tentative motions of exploration and mingling saliva to cloud his mind. A soft moan of satisfaction escaping him as their reiatsu began to tangle around them, almost instinctively. Ichigo's fingers found the silken locks of raven hair, as the noble's nails gently dug into the soft flesh of his hips. It wasn't a painful grasp like Aizen's, it was possessive yes but also lax enough that he could pull free with ease if he so desired.

Feeling his cheeks flush with warmth despite the effects of his medication, Ichigo groaned reluctantly and parted their lips with a long whine. His eyes roamed Byakuya's face apologetically as his teeth worried at his bottom lip, “Mm, as much as I would like to... Simply give in here and now I...”

“Don't need to explain yourself.” Byakuya's fingers released his waist and instead began brushing his ribs with a gentle swirling motion, his expression was open, compassionate even.

“Stop being so understanding. It is unbearable.” The strawberry muttered.

“Regrettably, you have no choice but to deal with my willingness to understand. I am not a man like Aizen, who cares so little for your feelings that I would bruise your skin and pride by manipulating you to do what I wish.” A soft forehead kiss was placed, “I care about you more than that.”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, inwardly feeling giddy from the way Byakuya treated him, almost like he was something precious to be handled with caution, “I appreciate it. I do. But I do want to explain, it's just... Difficult to get the words right.”

“I have all the time in the world for you to finds those words. You need not rush.”

Ichigo laughed awkwardly, it was breathy and almost inaudible, “And I used to think you were a selfish prick... How could I get it so wrong?”

Ichigo appraised the raven haired Shinigami silently. He wished he could show the affection he was currently feeling. He couldn't help but wish damnation upon those pills, even if they were saving his skin.

Being around Byakuya, being allowed to see the man's more vulnerable and sensitive side gave him a bubbling, intricate feeling he couldn't quite put a name to. It left him light headed, warm hearted, touched by every small action done to put him at ease.

He couldn't help be remember the truth of his words, still so recently having believed Byakuya cared about no one but himself, unkind, cold, stoic and emotionless. It was, ironically, only because of how dark he now saw Aizen to be that he could see the truth behind Byakuya's stoicism. It wasn't that he didn't care about anyone... It was that he _did_ care. About _everyone_. Rukia and Renji, his Clan, his Division, his colleagues... Ichigo knew he could count himself somewhere in that list. Byakuya cared about them all so much that he _couldn't_ dare show it, for fear of it being used against him by his enemies. It was safer. Safer to keep people at arm's length, easier to protect them if he didn't hold them so close.

It must be a lonely way to live.

“I don't know what... This is...” He made a motion between them, gesturing to their closeness, “I know that it... Is safe, and warm, and comfortable... And something feels terribly right about it... I don't know where it might take us if we let it... I... Am confident I want to find out...”

When he fell silent for a few minutes, Byakuya's lips curved into a barely there smile, “For the record, I too am willing to see where it takes us.”

Grateful for the confirmation, Ichigo felt he could continue, “I... I told you once... In this very bathhouse that I couldn't feel anything unless I was having sex or fighting... And even though that isn't the case anymore... Even though I have emotions and feelings and... Fuck this is hard...”

“Take your time.” The noble whispered.

Ichigo felt a sudden swell of anger, not directed at Byakuya, not directed at anything in particular, “I'm sick of pretending!” He shouted, wishing he could look as startled as he felt by the outburst, “I'm... I'm sick of pretending. I pretended to feel emotions so I could blend in with people in the past, now I'm pretending I don't feel emotions so I don't get killed. I'm tired of it. _If_ this progresses, _if_ we find a way, _if_ I end up in your bed I want to be able to _show_ you how I feel!”

Byakuya seemed surprised for a long moment, offering a rare smile despite his silence, “That is most... Understandable, I'm afraid to say considering your desire for me to be less understanding all the time. But alas, I do understand Ichigo.”

Smirking slightly, losing some of his previous discomfort and annoyance, Ichigo scoffed, “Well on this occasion you are allowed to understand. After all, you've been pretending to think of me as a pretentious upstart for years. I'd say it's about time you let your real feelings show too.”

“I fear I cannot argue with you on that point.” The nobleman agreed with a chuckle, he fell silent for a moment as he seemed to consider something, “Ichigo, would you care to... Join me for dinner this evening at the mansion?”

“At the Estate?” Eyebrows lifted.

“Naturally,” Byakuya nodded, “I even give you my word to have you back at your own quarters before midnight.”

“Such a gentleman.” Ichigo stifled a giggle, “Alright, I'd like that.”

“If you would be kind enough to give me... Half an hour to pre-warn my attendants of your arrival, I would be most grateful.”

“Of course.” Ichigo slowly slid back down into the bath, stretching out as he watched Byakuya clamber out, “It's a date?”

“Yes... Yes it is.”

* * *

Half an hour later, when Ichigo arrived at the Kuchiki Estate, he found himself nervous and just a little agitated by the sensation of eyes still following his every movement. Those eyes had been following him for weeks. None of his discomfort showed on his face, but that didn't stop him feeling it as he gently rubbed his clammy palms against his legs.

He was greeted at the main entrance by one of the attendants, the man was almost completely bald except for a small tuft of pure white hair encircling the lower half of his scalp, and his eyes seemed shut despite his nimble movements around the hall.

The inside of the mansion was even more elaborate than the outside, and Ichigo found himself feeling out of place. It was grand and outlandish and every bit as noble as Byakuya's family were. He'd expected the mansion to feel cold, like the Kuchiki heir's usual demeanour. But the truth couldn't have been more different. The attendants were courteous and professional, but they seemed happy with their lot in life. Polite, well mannered, welcoming and warm. No amount of money could buy the kind of behaviour won over by respect.

He was guided into a shōji walled room near to the koi pond, a table had been set up already and Byakuya was stood in the doorway of the veranda observing the gardens. Ichigo could see the nobleman had changed out of uniform and was now wearing an elaborately detailed dark purple kimono.

As if sensing his presence, Byakuya's head turned slightly, steel eyes finding chestnut ones, “You're early.”

“Punctuality is a strong suit of mine.” The strawberry replied, “You look nice.”

“My thanks.” The noble turned to face him properly, momentarily scanning the strawberry's off duty clothing, “So do you.”

“Oh please, I look like a commoner and we both know it.” He snorted and gestured to the raven haired man's clothes, “I could never pull of something that immaculate.”

“I think you would be surprised.” Byakuya guided him to his seat at the table before sitting as well, “I think you have a certain regality that you are blind to.”

“Me, regal? Please.”

The Division Six Taichou released a small laugh, his expression relaxed compared to normal, apparently feeling safe within the confines of his own home, “According to my main attendant, Rukia came by with Renji while we were training. He's been sticking to her like glue, but I fear she has become irritated by his presence. He isn't subtle.”

“I can imagine.” Ichigo blew out a breath, “I give him another week at the most before she susses something is wrong and tries to beat it out of him.”

“I would place a bet on her using Kidō to get it out of him.” The raven haired Shinigami mused, fingers interlocked under his chin.

“Kidō?” The strawberry repeated, “Nah. Not a chance. She'll straight up use her fists.”

“Just because you are inept at using Kidō doesn't mean everyone else is. She is gifted with it, it will always be her first instinct.”

“Just because its _your_ first instinct to use it doesn't mean Rukia is the same.” Ichigo raised an eyebrow in challenge, “Trust me, six years in Shino is more than enough to teach me that Kidō is not her first port of call. Counting the years before than in Rukongai, I can promise you... Fists.”

“Interesting.” Byakuya hummed, “Perhaps you would care to make a wager on it then.”

“Seriously? You want to gamble over this?”

“It seems like an interesting thing to gamble on. Who knows Rukia best. You, or me?”

Ichigo paused, unable to prevent the tickle of excitement he felt at the idea of a good bet, “Alright, you're on. Name your terms.”

“If she uses Kidō before her fists to get the truth out of Renji within the next week you will endure the pleasure of me teaching you to use Kidō for two weeks.” The nobleman stated, “Your terms?”

“If she uses her fists before Kidō to get the truth out of Renji within the next week... You have to accept Kenpachi's persistent request for a duel.”

“I... What?” Byakuya's eyes widened slightly, “Of everything you could demand, you wish for that?”

“I'm curious to see who would win, what can I say?” He shrugged innocently.

“You doubt my skills?”

Chuckling out a murmur of gratitude as their food was delivered, Ichigo sat forwards and pointed his chopsticks at the man, “Not at all. But I know how hard he hits. I genuinely want to see if Senbonzakura could match his raw power.”

Raising a perfect eyebrow, Byakuya let out a sigh, “It would be a lie to deny I have never considered it myself. I will accept your terms.”

They shook on their bet before tucking into the delicious meal prepared for them by the Kuchiki chefs. Ichigo was instantly overwhelmed by the incredible intoxication of flavours and it reminded him of the sushi Byakuya had left in his quarters over a month ago. He never had got around to thanking him for it.

Comfortable small talk filled the gap between courses, with jokes and teasing as well as a little bit of work being discussed. Ichigo was grateful to hear again of Byakuya's belief that Bankai would be reachable for him if he made amends with Zangetsu.

“There is one thing I cannot fathom about you though... It is your incredible potential to grow.” The nobleman commented, “I mean, even among my own Clan I am considered the most powerful Head there has ever been. But I still had to study for decades to reach Bankai. If Renji is to be believed you have been trying for only a few months. It should be impossible for a... Well, even if you were nobility I would find it questionable.”

“Maybe it's because of my Humanity?” Ichigo shrugged, “Perhaps there is something to be said about technically being a Human and not a Shinigami.”

“Possibly? Even so... Your potential is terrifying. Shikai from the moment your Asauchi was forged into Zangetsu. Bankai within months of training. Ridiculous levels of reiatsu which you cannot control. Your potential to grow could well be limitless, Ichigo.” Byakuya sipped his drink thoughtfully, “I have no doubt that with enough work and dedication you could become a Fukutaichou... Maybe even a Taichou in time.”

Thinking about it, his growth did seem ridiculously fast. He could only think of one person from his year who had achieved Bankai, or as close to it as possible. Some of them hadn't even reached Shikai yet!

“I'm not sure I'd be any good as a Fukutaichou, or a Taichou for that matter.” He murmured.

“You shouldn't doubt yourself. Doubt is the only thing which can limit latent talent.” The Kuchiki heir smiled softly, “Believe in yourself Ichigo, and others will do the same. Believe in yourself, and I know you will accomplish anything you desire.”

“Except Kidō.” He grinned.

Releasing a never before heard snort, Byakuya's eyes warmed, “Well, everyone needs a flaw.”


	14. Point Of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another month of tiptoeing around one and other, Ichigo and Byakuya reach the point of no return. A simple weekend off duty opens doors to entirely new challenges and rewards as they solidify their feelings for each other in a night of passion. But will it lead to their undoing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update to the upload schedule: I'll be updating Dark Hearts twice a week from this point onward! You can expect a regular update every Monday and Thursday according to GMT.

Another month had somehow ticked by. The close calls with Aizen had grown more and more frequent, harder to avoid and even harder to escape. Ichigo was coming to terms with the very real possibility that he might not have any choice other than to submit to his former superior's desires, if only to cover his tracks. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and any discussion of it between himself and Byakuya often led to a stagnant disagreement and more recently, arguments.

Byakuya didn't want him to offer himself up as bait, or as a way of keeping his new found emotional state secret. Ichigo understood, he didn't want it either. While he could still admit to finding Aizen attractive, the idea of allowing the man to use him for sex made his skin crawl and his gut churn. He didn't want that anymore. He didn't want him.

His eyes were firmly focused on the Kuchiki heir, the past two months had been a whirlwind. Discovering his past, recovering his ability to feel, acknowledging that he had been lied to and manipulated. Learning that Byakuya had some form of feelings for him, feelings which he was almost certain he was willing to reciprocate. The Kuchiki heir felt as necessary as breathing these days. Ichigo was embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that he was finding more and more excuses to spend time around the man.

Rukia's predicted assault on Renji hadn't gone according to plan for either of them. She didn't use Kidō. She didn't use her fists. A firm kick in the balls had sent Renji to his knees. Somehow the redhead had managed to keep the nature of his watch a secret. But his pain was one both Ichigo and Byakuya sympathised with, even if it meant their gamble had come to a stalemate.

Amused at the memory of Renji's tear stained face as he recounted his struggle to them both, Ichigo shook his head. Currently sat in an armchair in the corner of Byakuya's study at the Kuchiki Mansion, he flicked through his third book of the night, making notes where he could on the paper he'd brought with him, trying to find anything and everything he could on removing foreign matter from souls without damaging them, he was finding most of his best information from medical books seeing as it was practically a common occurrence for Division Four to tend to similar conditions.

He had no doubt it would have been hugely useful to be able to bring Unohana in to help them, but it was impossible without revealing why they were researching it, and it was too dangerous to have too many people knowing about their investigation, on the off chance that it found its way back to Aizen.

Groaning, he allowed his head to drop back against the plush texture of the chair, glaring upwards.

“What has the poor ceiling done to deserve such ire?”

Byakuya's voice from the door way startled him from his dark mood and he sprang to his feet, “Taichou! I mean... Byakuya... I wasn't expecting you back this early.”

“Early?” The noble repeated, sweeping into the room like he had every right to be there, which of course he did, “Ichigo it is gone midnight.”

“Huh? Really?” He looked towards the large windows and frowned at how dark it was outside, he hadn't even realised, “Sorry for intruding, I got lost in my research.”

“There's no need to apologise.” A lazy wave of a hand, “I am truly grateful for your hard work.”

It was the weekend, so Byakuya was technically off duty, hence his current residence at his family home; Ichigo had decided to sneak in to do some extra research after the man had gone to a meeting with the Kuchiki Elders, but had apparently become so engrossed he'd lost all track of time.

“Was the meeting alright?” He asked, carefully putting the books back that he had been reading.

“It was fine.” Was the simple response, there was a slight edge to his tone.

“Are you sure?” Ichigo frowned faintly.

Sighing, the noble leaned back against the desk at the head of the room, not far from the other man's current position, “They are being troublesome. It appears it has reached the time of year where they feel they can infringe upon my personal affairs and attempt to convince me to remarry.”

“They can do that?!”

“No, but it doesn't mean they don't try.” He shook his head, “They didn't approve of my last marriage, so they are insistent that they choose a suitable wife for me this time around, likely another noble.”

“Hmph, they sound like a bunch of annoying old timers.” He folded his arms, scowling faintly, “I'd be pissed if anyone tried to make those kinds of choices for me.”

“Oh believe me, I am.” The noble huffed, “They try every year around this time, threatening to line up suitors for me to choose from. I remember when they tried two years ago and I point blank refused to talk to a single one of them for the next three months.”

Ichigo had a hard time imagining the man being that petulant towards his Elders, but at the same time it was oddly satisfying, “What is your tactic to be this year? Silent treatment or something even worse?”

“I haven't decided yet.” He admitted, “Silent treatment is always a good option, however it leaves me with a lot of extra paperwork.”

Chuckling softly, the strawberry haired Shinigami strolled forwards, coming to stand in front of the noble with a confident smile in place, sliding his hands up the firm chest before him as he leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips.

It was returned with the sensation of hands sliding around his hips to clasp him closer, warmth embroiling the two of them together in a clash of teeth and tongues, eventually drawing a small whine from the younger of the two.

“You're oddly... Responsive tonight.” Byakuya commented, pulling back for air.

“Well, it is the weekend, I'm not on duty so I don't have to show my face to anyone... Dangerous.” He mused, “So I skipped the modified Gikon today.”

“Really?” An eyebrow quirked, “Are you feeling alright? You said it gives you some nasty side effects when you miss them.”

“I'm fine, I had some dizziness earlier but it has passed.” Ichigo shrugged his concern aside, not because he didn't want it but because he wanted to put Byakuya's mind at ease, “I wanted to spend at least a little bit of time actually... Feeling.”

A straight nose nudged his head back gently as Byakuya traced his lips along Ichigo's jaw, coming to rest just under his ear, brushing his teeth on the spot and enjoying the shuddering response it drew, “I can't decide if you are brave or foolish.”

“A healthy dose of both.” It was a shaky reply at best.

Gently testing the area again, sucking softly at the skin, the noble purred at the reactions he received, “If we are to be certain you aren't caught out by prying eyes... Perhaps it would be safest for you to stay here over the weekend.”

Swallowing, Ichigo raised his eyebrows, “With you?”

“Naturally.” A simple answer really.

Ichigo barely contained the groan that rose in his throat as he felt the sucking resume, his knees wobbled slightly and he gulped, eyes fluttering slightly. It had been so long since he'd experienced real intimate touches with someone. Sure enough their kisses and stolen moments had been devolving into less than innocent, sly gropes recently but it was different when he could actually show how those touches made him feel.

“Will you stay?” The question itself was innocent, but the look in Byakuya's eyes was anything but.

Ichigo was certain that his agreement would be to more than simply spending the weekend at the mansion. There was a heavy lidded lust barely contained on the nobleman's features. It made his knees weak and his heart thunder in his chest. Was he ready for that?

“Yes.”

They met in another battle of wills, mouths prying and investigating, hands dancing against clothed skin as Byakuya's hands slid down to clasp the firm buttocks of the younger man, lifting him roughly. Ichigo wrapped his legs around him willingly.

Ichigo released a moan as his arousal rubbed between them, and he gasped out as he was carried easily from the study, the world moving in a blur of Shunpo. But he didn't care, his lips were working their way down the noble's throat while his fingers danced through his hair, unfastening the kenseikan that would undoubtedly annoy him at a later date if left untouched.

Reiatsu colliding as their movements grew more needy, the strawberry barely recognised that they were now in the main bedroom of the house, he was being utterly consumed by lust and desire, hard cock throbbing painfully within the confines of his uniform.

A chair was knocked aside, books disturbed from their shelves as Ichigo's back was thrown against the bookcase in the room, he groaned deeply, arching his back as he felt fingers digging into his thighs just enough to elicit the desired response.

He looked mildly confused as Byakuya slowed his actions, allowing the younger man to stand on his own again, he looked up to find intense steel eyes longing to seep into his own.

“Wh-What is it?” He panted, knees shaking.

Byakuya seemed to hesitate, leaning in and kissing his forehead, “I want to be sure that you want this.”

Surprised, but also deeply touched by the concern he heard, he wound his arms up around the other's neck, pulling him in close, “I couldn't want anything more right now.”

Apparently all the confirmation that was required, he felt himself spun around, being walked backwards until his legs hit the end of the bed and Ichigo fell back, feeling as if the mattress would swallow him whole. Leaning up on his elbows, he raised an eyebrow in invitation, teeth tugging at his bottom lip expectantly.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but as the noble crawled over him and settled between his thighs, he saw a tenderness amidst obvious lust and desire. Ichigo became startlingly aware that this probably wasn't going to be anything like the sex he was used to, rough and more about release than actual feelings and exploration. It made him nervous, almost like it was his first time, and he let out a keening whine as nimble fingers worked his shihakusho open.

Layers of clothing were discarded one by one, Byakuya's hands were skilled yet tentative, the pads of his fingers roaming the flesh he was exposing as Ichigo allowed his head to fall back, groaning through clenched teeth as every movement only increased his need.

Impatient at the best of times, the strawberry leaned up, yanking at the noble's robes until they gave way, and whatever refused to move was swiftly torn and tossed aside on the floor until they were both bare. He was sure he heard Byakuya laugh.

Despite having seen the man naked before, during their after training soaks at the bathhouse, there was something surprisingly different as Ichigo's eyes roamed the naked expanse of flushed skin in front of him. He took in the prominent scar running across the man's shoulder and while he felt a pang of guilt knowing he had caused it, he couldn't bring himself to sulk as his lips were captured in another breath taking kiss.

They tangled together, arms and legs entwined as they enjoyed the presence of each other, daring to drag things out for as long as they could. Ichigo's back arched sharply as he felt steady fingers curling around his ready arousal, moaning out at the slow but firm tugs of the nobleman's grasp.

He relaxed into the feeling, giving himself over to it completely, rocking his hips against the contact and groaning as the tempo occasionally shifted, to keep him on his toes. His breath hitched as his lips were claimed again, tongues battling furiously as Byakuya slowly shifted to hover above him, hand never moving from his aching manhood as his stomach began to tie itself in knots.

His first climax washed over him with a pleasant warmth only moments later, leaving him heady and breathless. He gazed up at the noble who was hovering just out of his reach, his gaze warm and enticing, just a mere suggestion of what he was going to give him.

Despite having experienced sexual pleasure so many times before, this felt different, felt right and felt good, Ichigo bit his lip as Byakuya pulled his legs up around his waist. He watched with bated breath as Byakuya's tongue swirled over two of his fingers, the digits disappearing between his lips for a long exaggerated moment before they pulled free and began trailing a wet line of saliva down the inside of Ichigo's thigh.

He was already hard again, and if nothing else was pleased that his returned emotions hadn't dampened his renown stamina in bed. Ichigo's mouth fell open as he felt the first finger dip into his body, the familiar sensation making his skin tingle.

He could tell that Byakuya was enjoying every cry and whimper he released, the man's face almost as blushed as his own, a thin layer of sweat covered his pearly skin giving it a startling shine. Ichigo released a purr as his neck was assaulted, teasing bites and wet kisses trailed a path of bruise like marks, his back bowing as he felt a second finger slide in along side the first, only to nudge the bundle of nerves inside him that made his world catch fire.

His lover had clearly noticed because the new abuse continued, driving him towards the bring of madness as his cries grew more desperate and urgent.

Mercy came when Byakuya pulled his fingers free and shuffled into a more central position between his strawberry haired lover's legs, fingers grazing his own aching erection as he slicked himself, and swiftly but carefully penetrated the younger man.

Movement began slowly, testing the waters. A roll of the hips, a gentle thrust back and forth. As confidence grew, the pace became firmer and more definitive, each rocking sensation tearing sounds from Ichigo that he wasn't sure he knew he could make, mewls and whimpers lingered in the air as his fingers clasped at long locks of raven hair, in an urgent attempt to draw the noble even closer.

Each jerk struck nerves, he was seeing stars as his body quaked under the unrelenting pleasure, his hips rocking upwards to meet each forwards movement, their pelvic bones kissing briefly each time as they grew ever more synchronised.

The subtle drag of nails along his ribs caused his already arching back to lift higher, only for him to feel fingers grasp him firmly, holding him in his new position as Byakuya's thrusts became more urgent, more needy, the stuttering breaths escaping the raven haired man loud in his ear.

Ichigo could feel his second orgasm approaching, he clasped Byakuya's face between his hands, forcing their eyes to meet as he breathed heavily between his lips, eyes dark as his pupils dilated further. He released a choked sound, somewhere between a groan and cry as his body spasmed, his muscles tightening around the thickness that was buried deep. He watched as the nobleman's eyes widened, his teeth clenching as he let out a low guttural growl of pleasure. Byakuya's hips thrusted forwards and Ichigo gasped out as he felt the fullness of release which accompanied the Kuchiki heir's orgasm.

Both breathless and worn, Byakuya pulled back only enough to observe the beautiful creature beneath him, completely captivated by the warm flush that complimented sunset shades of hair, eyes which seemed in that moment to be closer to molten lava than chestnut; full and evocative with warmth that seemed to glisten. So far removed from the cold, dead look he'd once worn with such ease.

Ichigo wriggled slightly under his scrutiny, feeling more satisfied than he had in his life in that moment, the drifting afterglow seeping into his bones and making his body turn to jelly, he could barely muster the strength to pull the noble against him again, kissing him sweetly on the lips.

Aizen wasn't the kind of man to engage in any after pleasure contact, once it was over he was gone to the showers and Ichigo would be left to dress and show himself out, the only exception had been that one morning where he had woken in the man's bed. It still made him shiver, the idea that Aizen had allowed such a thing, it was out of character for certain.

Not entirely sure what to expect in terms of Byakuya's behaviour, he found himself pleasantly surprised when the man continued to treat him with the same courtesy as before, carefully parting their bodies before laying down on the bed beside him, pulling him against his chest in one simple motion.

A sleepy gaze briefly showed interest in the myriad of marks they'd left on each other, he was confused by his own body, usually he'd already be up for another round of heated passion but he couldn't lift so much as a finger, instead allowing his body to sink even closer, fingers gently splayed over the taut muscles, he found himself slipping.

The last thing he remembered feeling was the soft contact of bedsheets gently fluttering down over their entwined forms, and then he was gone.

Byakuya fought sleep off for a little longer, watching as Ichigo fell asleep against his chest; he allowed himself the privilege of running his fingers through his slightly damp sunset coloured hair, enjoying how soft it felt beneath the pads of his digits. He was glad, if nothing else, that he had succeeded in remaining controlled during their encounter.

He had spent a lot of time considering how Aizen must have treated the younger man to produce the bruises he remembered seeing so well, and he was determined to show that he was nothing like him, he wanted Ichigo to enjoy it, to come undone and bare his soul to him, even if it was only momentary. Any marks he left behind, he wanted mirrored on his own body. It wasn't a power play. It was an equality.

Pulling the young man impossibly closer, squeezing his eyes shut as his stomach knotted with an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety, he acknowledged that this was as much about his own undoing as the youth's. If anything, he had just sealed his own fate, knowing without a doubt that there was no way he could ever let Ichigo go. He was going to do everything he could to protect him from harm.

* * *

Gin rested his back against the wall surrounding the Kuchiki mansion, usual smile absent and replaced instead by a deeply downturned frown. He was aware of the orders Aizen had given the current Third Seat of Division Six, and had fully expected to sense him carrying them out at some point, however, what troubled him was just how different the man's aura felt, even at this distance.

Glancing towards the house he scratched his cheek in thought, he'd caught a brief sight of the strawberry earlier on in the day, lingering around the library inside the Estate, he hadn't been able to put his finger on what reason he'd have for spending so much time there unless it was to woo the Taichou.

And yet that smile he'd caught sight of suggested something far more concerning, groaning inwardly he sighed, “Ne, Ichi-Berry, what are ya playin' at?”


	15. Benefit Of The Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before turns out to be far more pleasant than Ichigo expected, until a mysterious disturbance is reported in Division Six. Assuming his duties as Third Seat, Ichigo has no choice but to investigate, but without the aid of his modified Gikon. When he gets there, things are far worse than he'd imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Uploads will be twice a week, every Monday and Thursday!

Warm light tumbling down onto his face roused Ichigo from slumber, stretching wide like the cat that got the cream, he felt a contented smile tug at his lips as he rolled onto his front, burying his face in the pillows for a few further minutes before he finally raised his head and peered around the room.

Now his mind was clear of lust induced tunnel vision, he could appreciate the subtle scenery: calming tones of grey and purple on the walls, framed by white beams that ran the length of the room; two built in bookcases, some of which were currently missing their contents after his back had struck them; a plush looking love seat sat beneath the large bay window which was currently flung wide open, allowing cool autumnal breezes to seep into the room, tugging at the lace curtains that hung there. He noticed the presence of three doors, one was evidently the one he'd entered through, he assumed another was the en-suit bathroom, leaving the third one to perhaps be a walk in wardrobe.

Blinking lazily, he was sure he could hear running water coming from behind one of the doors, following by the realisation that he was currently alone in the bed. Curiosity getting the better of him, he slid carefully from under the sheets, standing up gingerly as the ache in his lower back presented itself, much as he had expected.

Nudging the door open, he wandered inside, leaning against the wall as he ran his eyes over the exposed back of his host, the man was drawing a bath but given how he already looked clean, Ichigo could only assume it was for his benefit.

“Mm, I'm disappointed,” he purred, strolling forward like a prowling cat, sliding his hands up the pale spine in front of him, “I always imagined that you had servants do this kind of thing for you.”

Byakuya peered at him in amusement, not bothering to conceal the shudder the touch caused, “I have attendants, normally. But I wanted to give you the special treatment. Not to mention, I wasn't sure how well you'd receive being woken by the sight of a cluster of people fussing over you.”

“Oh, in that case, I'm flattered.” He pressed a kiss against a bare shoulder blade, “You'd be surprised though, I've been walked in on doing far worse than sleeping.”

“I can imagine.” The noble turned and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss, “Good morning, by the way.”

“Morning.” He breathed against his lips, “Sleep well?”

“Very. And you?”

“Very.” Ichigo grinned.

The noble was sorely tempted to recreate the passion from the night before when he saw that smile, but he resisted the urge and turned the taps off, holding a hand out to assist the younger man into the ceramic tub.

Ichigo, for his part, wasn't used to being treated with such refined manners, especially not after some kind of sexual encounter, but he shoved his apprehension aside and accepted the help, knowing the ache in his spine would leave him hard pressed to step into the water by himself.

Sinking down, he let out a relaxed sigh, water sluicing up and down his skin as he dipped all the way under, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he surfaced, surprised to see Byakuya preparing to wash him.

“You don't have to do that.” He murmured.

“I know.” A simple reply, but delivered with a smile.

Deciding he didn't want to argue, Ichigo rested back and allowed himself to be pampered; while it wasn't something he was used to he quickly decided he rather enjoyed it, the luxurious feeling of soap being massaged over his skin followed by shampoo coated fingers in his hair, digging deep into his scalp elicited purrs of enjoyment from him.

Once clean and dry, Ichigo was presented with his shihakusho which had apparently already been cleaned and dried as well, he was reminded again of how efficient the Kuchiki staff were rumoured to be, and gave a silent thank you to them as he dressed.

The pair headed downstairs together, the noble leading the way to the dining room where a hot breakfast was already waiting for them, he made sure Ichigo was sat down first before joining him.

“So, I didn't get a chance to talk to you about it last night, but I think I might be onto something as far as helping Rukia is concerned.” The strawberry said between mouthfuls of food.

“Oh?” Byakuya twitched an eyebrow in response.

“Well, it occurred to me that what we need to do is very similar to the work Division Four does on an almost daily basis, especially with those idiots from Eleven always acting up... So I started going through some medical journals in the library. There was nothing conclusive but I managed to make a few decent notes that might help.” He shrugged.

The noble offered him a smile, “Thank you for all your hard work. I can at least relax a little knowing you're doing your very best.”

“Of course.” Ichigo looked down shyly at his food, stabbing at it, “I'm as much to blame for Rukia being in danger as anyone... At least if I do something to try and help I might feel less guilty.”

Surprised, Byakuya reached out and brushed the back of his hand with his own, “Rukia's condition is not your fault, Ichigo, in this instance at the very least the blame lies with Kisuke Urahara.”

“I won't argue with that.” He chuckled weakly, “Have you heard from Renji yet this morning?”

“I received a brief report, Rukia is doing well, her condition appears to be the same but is not worsening.”

“I'm glad to hear she's not getting worse... Hopefully before long we can put this right.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck restlessly.

Byakuya nodded in agreement, “Until then, I still feel it best she remain unaware of what is going on, try as she might to hide it... She has a perpetual fear of Gin, and I fear he would know immediately if she was aware of something.”

“She does?” He frowned, he'd always found Gin rather entertaining, certainly favourable compared to Tōsen's moody presence.

“He has a habit of stirring negative emotions in people, I'm sure you'll discover that in time too now. He is a snake, powerful and skilled, but a snake none the less. Be sure to watch your back if he is around.” The raven haired Taichou's voice dipped, it was unlike him to openly speak ill of a colleague but he made a special exception where the fox was concerned.

“I'll keep it in mind.” The strawberry murmured, leaning over and kissing him softly, sighing as he felt a hand brush his cheek in response, “Do you have anything on today?”

“Nothing I can't put on hold.” There was a hint of a smirk there as he slyly pulled the younger man from his seat and onto his lap.

Sliding his arms around the noble's shoulders, Ichigo grinned, “Well, if you are sure then I think there are a few finer points of interest we still need to go over about-”

The dining room door flew open to reveal Renji, sweating slightly from his Shunpo and panting, a Hell Butterfly perched on his finger, “I'm sorry to intrude, Taichou, but I-” His eyes fell on the scene before him and he blinked several times, apparently trying to comprehend the sight of his best friend sat so snugly in Byakuya Kuchiki's lap.

“What is it, Renji?” The noble asked, grip tightened on Ichigo's waist to prevent him moving, apparently not in the slightest bit embarrassed.

“I... Uh...” The redhead shook his head to organise his thoughts, “I... Apologise for interrupting your weekend, Taichou, however I was with Rukia just now and this message arrived,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I'm not sure why it was sent to me rather than Ichigo...”

“Renji.” Byakuya's patience was wearing thing.

“Sorry, sorry! There's a report of some kind of disturbance at the Division, there's no specifics but it sounds like there's some trouble.” He explained finally, the Butterfly seeming content that its message had been delivered, flew off.

Ichigo was about to ask why such a message had been delivered to Renji, surely something as minor as that should have come directly to him, it was his job after all, but recalled that his friend had already said he was unsure why the message had been sent to him.

With a sigh, he slipped gracefully from Byakuya's grasp despite the man's attempts to hold him still, “Don't give me that look,” he huffed, “As your Third Seat it is my duty to deal with such matters, especially while Renji is meant to be looking after Rukia.”

Byakuya had to school his expression into something resembling normal, “Very well, but come back when you are done, we still need to go over those finer points as you mentioned.”

Ichigo chuckled throatily, “I'll be here.” He turned to the redhead still loitering in the doorway and grinned at him, pausing as he saw the surprised look he was given, “What?”

“N-Nothing... It just...” Renji smiled weakly, “It's nice to see you happy.”

Flushing slightly, he patted his uniform down “Well don't get too used to it, I'd planned to take the weekend off but it can't be helped. I'll have to take one of those-” He froze on the spot and patted himself down again.

“What's wrong?” Byakuya frowned.

“Ugh...” He gritted his teeth in a flash of annoyance, “I left them in my office.”

“I do hope you are joking.” The sudden lack of amusement in the nobleman's voice was a dangerous warning sign of his concern.

“I wish I was.” He muttered, rolling his eyes, “It's fine, I'll head straight there, pick them up and then deal with whatever is going on. If I see anyone in the mean time I'll just have to act.”

“Ichigo.” Byakuya said firmly.

He looked around gingerly, half expecting to be scolded, “Yes?”

“Be careful.”

“Of course.” He smiled once more and hurried out, slipping into an easy burst of Shunpo once he was outside.

Renji watched him go before glancing at the noble again, eyebrows raised, “So... You and him...”

“Is absolutely none of your business, Abarai.”

* * *

Ichigo hurried back towards Division Six as fast as his Shunpo would allow, ducking and diving through the Shinigami he could see, not wanting a reason to slow down or worry about them noticing how different he was. As long as he reached his office before he had to talk to anyone, he would be fine.

He skidded to a stop and threw the door open, darting inside and searching his desk for the small tube Urahara had given him. Frowning deeply as he searched, he was sure they'd been right on top of his paperwork, in fact he was certain he had put them there the day before.

His hand froze over a few scattered documents. Thinking about it, he had locked the office door before heading to the Estate the day before, and yet he'd been able to open it without a care in the world. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to remain calm, if someone had broken in they were likely looking for a reaction.

The hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end and he whirled around, hand flying to Zangetsu but a firm hand coiled around his wrist, holding it in place and slowly lifting him clean off his feet; his teeth clenched as he came face to face with Rukia's worst nightmare.

“Gin, what are you doing?” He growled, making sure to keep his expression as dead as he was used to it being.

“Ne, Ichi-Berry where are your manners?” The silver haired fox smiled widely, “Even if we are comrades I'd expect you to address me properly.”

“My apologies... Ichimaru Taichou, what are you doing?”

“It's funny you should ask, actually, you see I rather wanted to ask you the same question...” The man dipped his free hand into his shihakusho and slowly revealed the tube Ichigo had been looking for, “I found myself wondering what these were... Havin' seen you take them so often recently.”

“Seen me... Have you been following me?” He demanded, it would make sense, Gin was a master of concealing himself, if he was indeed the source of the feeling of discomfort Ichigo had recently been experiencing it would explain everything.

“Of course, Aizen Taichou was insistent on me keepin' a close eye on your progress.” He man chuckled, twirling the object between his thumb and forefinger, “So, are you going to tell me what these are for?”

There was no quick lie which sprang to mind, nothing he could say that the man wouldn't counter, he was sure, his mouth was going dry as that smile seemed to grow wider and wider, threatening to swallow him whole if he wasn't careful.

“Just something to give me extra energy, Kuchiki has been running me ragged recently with missions and schedules and paperwork, I mean you've seen my desk.” He gestured to the piles of incomplete work with his free hand, wincing as the action caused his elevated shoulder to creak.

“Is that so?” The man sounded amused, rattling the tube gentle in consideration before he pulled Ichigo closer to him, his nose brushing the younger man's ear, “Would you care to explain the smile you had on your face last night?”

The strawberry stiffened, shuddering at the chilling breath that blew across his neck, “As I've told Aizen Taichou in the past... I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

“I'm sure you can be.”

He stumbled as he was released, gripping his wrist with a wince as he observed the ugly looking bruise that was already blossoming against his tanned skin, the Third Seat couldn't quite believe Gin had believed him but he was grateful as the man turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” He asked, the question slipping free without permission.

The silver haired fox glanced over his shoulder at him and smirked, “I was thinkin' of paying Rukia-chan a visit, I hear she has been unwell for a while now. It would be a terrible shame if she was sufferin' the same illness as her late sister.”

Ichigo flinched, and a fist balled at his side, “Stay away from her.”

“Oh?”

“I mean... It might be contagious.” He added.

He was done for, and he knew it. The moment his demand had left his lips he knew he'd fallen headlong into the trap Gin had been laying for him, he could see the change in the other man's posture, it was intimidating and taut, like he was ready for a battle. Ichigo took a small step back as he watched those pale blue eyes reveal themselves in an almost disappointed frown.

“You know... Ichigo... I would have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

That was the first time Gin had ever said his name properly, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was the last, “No you wouldn't.” He said quietly.

He made no move to dodge the strike that came his way, he'd never have made it through the door even if he had, all he could do was accept it as his body turned to lead and the world went black. What a wretched way for his day to play out when the morning had been so utterly blissful.

Gin's expression was one of regret, his usual smile now missing as he scooped up the strawberry haired man he'd come to respect while they worked together. He had desperately hoped his instincts had been wrong on this occasion but it seemed more and more likely that he was right.

He knew one thing, without a doubt in his mind. Aizen was going to be pissed.


	16. What Can You See In Their Eyes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it becomes painfully obvious that Ichigo can't talk his way out of trouble and Aizen raises the stakes, the strawberry haired Third Seat realises there's only one way he can possibly achieve the strength he needs to stand a fighting chance of saving himself and his friends... But it is going to be incredibly painful.

Ichigo's head was throbbing as he felt the first touches of awakening tingle around the edges of his consciousness, he had to admit that for such a spindly figure Gin really packed a punch. He released a small groan of discomfort, it was hard to move; his body felt disjointed and awkward.

Slowly lifting his head and allowing his eyes to flitter open, his vision was initially blurry but cleared enough to make out the familiar scenery of Aizen's private quarters. Tension boiled through his body, a single glance down at himself revealed that he had been restrained by Kidō, most likely Sai judging by the way his arms were locked uncomfortably behind his back.

A soft grunt escaped him as he gave his fingers a testing wiggle, ensuring he still had full feeling of his limbs despite the constraints. His legs were sore from being knelt down for so long on the hard wooden floor, but apart from that and his headache he seemed relatively unharmed.

He couldn't believe he had been so utterly foolish, he'd sensed someone watching him for weeks and despite that he had still... It was useless to berate himself now, it was done and his own stupidity had landed him in the direct line of danger he had been trying so hard to avoid.

Stiffening as he heard a door open somewhere behind him, he swallowed back his feelings, knowing that now more than ever he would have to try and convince his captors of his innocence. He wasn't even sure if that was possible anymore, Gin had his modified Gikon, all it would take was some tests to be run and they'd know everything. Maybe they already did.

“Ichigo.” Aizen's voice was cold, cutting and crisp through the dimly lit room.

“Aizen Taichou.” He answered, impressed that his own tone remained level despite the turmoil in his heart.

The brunet came into view, walking around him in a slow predatory manner, his expression devoid of any telling information, glasses reflecting Ichigo's face back towards him. The strawberry forced himself to maintain eye contact, it was the only chance he had of surviving long enough to weave his silver tongue.

“I cannot even begin to aptly describe how disappointed I am.” Aizen breathed, “How long have you been deceiving me for, Ichigo?”

“Deceiving you?” He repeated, cocking an eyebrow in feigned confusion, “I have no idea what you mean, Taichou.”

For whatever reason, his reply seemed to amuse the man in front of him, “Is that so?”

“Of course, what is this all about, Taichou?” It was hard to remain level headed when every cell in his body was screaming in rage at the man he had respected for so long, “I think Gin may have jumped to some conclusions about my recent behaviour.”

Speaking of Gin, where was that bastard? He could just about sense that he was alone with Aizen, the silver haired fox no where to be seen. Being in the dark made his skin crawl with a reluctant shiver.

“Indeed... He has jumped to many conclusions recently, sadly most of them appear to have been correct.” Aizen sighed deeply, “Out of all my trusted subordinates the only one I never expected would betray me... Was you. I am so very disappointed to discover the flaw in my faith.”

“Betray you? I haven't betrayed-” Ichigo was cut off by the sudden pounding weight of the other man's reiatsu crushing down on him, knocking the breath from his lungs and forcing him to fall forward, gasping out as pain ricochetted up and down his body.

“To think that you would become bold enough to attempt to lie to my very face. Convincing as you are, you forget that I taught you everything you know.” The man's voice was barely above a sharp breath, “Why? Why would you betray me, Ichigo? I gave you everything.”

He nearly vomited his breakfast back up as the pressure was suddenly released, his body quivering violently from the assault on his senses; Ichigo glared up at him, unable to pick himself back up from the foetal position he'd been forced into. His teeth clenched painfully tight and he knew, without any hesitation, he wasn't going to be able to talk his way out of this.

The game was over. Aizen knew.

“I asked you a question!” The brunet snapped, fist clumping among the locks of strawberry hair as he pulled Ichigo up to eye level, “Do not make me beat it out of you. Tell me everything now, and I may show mercy later on.”

Hissing in pain as his totes scraped the floor, he let out a shuddering breath, forcing his eyes to meet with those chocolate swirls of death, “You... May have given me everything... But you stole everything too. I remember, Aizen, I remember my family.”

From the sudden wideness of the other man's eyes, he hadn't anticipated that to be the reason, a scowl swiftly followed and his hand moved, coiling around Ichigo's throat, “You have turned on me because of a few spattered memories of a life you can never return to? I _saved_ you.”

“Saved me?!” He exclaimed, rasping for breath as the grip tightened, “You destroyed me! You took everything I had! You murdered them and snatched me away like I was yours!”

“You _are_ mine!” Aizen barked, a rare show of temper rising, “I didn't kill your family, Ichigo. Believe me I planned to, after I was finished with them. But I didn't get the chance. They were murdered by a Hollow.”

“W-What?” He breathed, vision speckling as his throat constricted.

“You alone survived that night, survived the wrath of the Hollow, so I took you away, brought you to Soul Society.” He hissed.

Ichigo blinked to try and focus, his feet kicking slightly as breathing grew harder and harder, “You used the Hōgyoku on me!”

“Yes.”

“You abandoned me in Fugai like an animal, and left me to fend for myself! I had no memories, no feelings, no chance of survival!”

“And yet here you are. All these years later, stronger than ever. I left you there because I knew you could survive.” He scoffed, “Finding you in Shino was a surprise, maybe even a miracle. Finally I was able to see what you had become, and you were... Beautiful.”

He flinched, biting back bile, “Beautiful? You turned me into a monster.”

“I turned you into a fierce, powerful, ruthless creature. As beautiful as you are deadly.” Aizen relaxed his grip very slightly, allowing the younger man to breathe as he drew in closer, “You became everything I had hoped for Ichigo... And for a time you were content to be just that.”

Panting as oxygen began to flow normally again, he felt his expression threaten to turn pained. Aizen wasn't wrong. He'd spent so long being utterly content with whatever the man had asked of him, it didn't matter if it was murder; mayhem; misery or disaster, he'd happily inflicted it upon his enemies. Part of him knew, had always know, that his loyalty extended further than just blind faith, there had been admiration and need there. Maybe even a tinge of love.

It surprised him to admit that to himself, even when he knew that emotions had been an impossible thing for him to feel for the majority of his service to Aizen, looking back at what he'd done for him allowed him to acknowledge that his actions could only have been driven by something as tempestuous and unexpected as that.

“You're right...” He whispered, “I was content.”

Lowering his gaze, Ichigo let out a long breath, he stopped struggling against the grip still present around his throat and gulped back the lump in his throat, he wasn't sure if his turmoil was showing on his face at this point but it didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered. He wasn't leaving this room alive no matter what he did.

“How much of our plans did you hand over to Kuchiki?” Aizen asked, merely pleased that for the moment he seemed to be getting somewhere.

“All of them.” He answered bluntly, “I gave him everything he asked for.”

“I see.”

He was dropped suddenly and hit the floor with a crunch, gasping as his leg twisted awkwardly under his weight, he released a small groan and managed to wriggle just enough to take the pressure off the now aching limb, uncertain if he had broken something or simply bruised it.

The strawberry lifted his head to see what his former Taichou was doing, but faltered as he sensed another reiatsu fast approaching their location. There had been a momentary flicker of hope that it was Byakuya, but he soon recognised the smooth and dulcet tone of Tōsen's reiatsu.

“Aizen-sama, I brought him as you requested.” The man's voice was calm and collected as always.

“Excellent, bring him over.” Aizen barely looked up from what he was doing, rummaging through a drawer near the bedroom.

Ichigo tried to worm his way around to see what was going on, but froze as everything was revealed in front of his very eyes.

“R-Renji...” He croaked, eyes wide as the redheaded Fukutaichou was dumped unceremoniously on the floor in front of him, apparently also restrained by one Kidō or another.

Blood was dripping down the tattooed man's face from a nasty looking gash somewhere in his hairline, his breathing was laboured and Ichigo could see the fresh blossoming of bruises barely hidden by his half shredded uniform.

“Ichigo...” The man panted, wincing as he looked at him, “What... What's going on?”

“He knows.” He swallowed, “He knows about me. I'm sorry... Renji...”

“You've got a nerve, showing such a feeble expression when we're both in the same position.” The redhead muttered, “Get a grip of yourself.”

Ichigo's eyes flicked upwards towards Aizen, faltering as he saw the man scrutinizing him with an unexplained expression of surprise, he realised quickly what had caused it and gulping hard as the brunet swept forwards gripping his face in his hand with a threatening tightness.

“So, Gin's suspicions were correct. When did you start to feel emotion?” He hissed.

Despite the terror running through his veins, he kept his mouth shut, merely fixing his former commander with a piercing gaze, allowing his contempt to show.

“Gin noticed how different you were when you returned from the World of the Living the second time... After your trip to Fugai.” The brunet seemed to grow more annoyed, “The panic I sensed from you that day... It was because you were remembering, Kuchiki... Helped you to remember. You transformed that day, didn't you?”

Holding his head just a nudge higher, Ichigo kept quiet, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of having an answer from him.

Aizen seemed to come to another conclusion during his prolonged silence, one which seemed to anger him far more than any of the previous ones, “You met Kisuke Urahara. He is the only person who would have so successfully modified a Gikon to your specific needs. But... If he willingly helped you that can only mean he sent you back here for a reason...”

The Third Seat twitched slightly, a reluctant agreement with his statement that he instantly regretted.

“He told you where the Hōgyoku is, didn't he?” The Taichou smirked darkly, his grip tightening until Ichigo was sure his jaw would break, “Didn't he?!”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, looking horrified the moment the word left his lips, flinching as he was instantly released, his jaw popping in protest; he slumped forwards and swallowed hard, glancing at Renji with a silent apology.

“You will tell me where it is, and you will tell me now. If you do I will see fit to spare Abarai's life, seeing as he means so much to you.” Aizen's fingers ghosted Renji's ponytail as if to exaggerate his threat.

“Don't you dare.” The redhead breathed as he glared at his best friend.

Ichigo sucked in a shaky breath, looking from Renji to Aizen and back again before he dropped his gaze to the floor between them, “Go fuck yourself.” He muttered.

He received a hard kick to his spine in retaliation for his words, he hadn't even realised that Tōsen was still present. Hitting the floor, he groaned, another strike following swiftly which turned him onto his back. The strawberry spat saliva as an even more brutal punch was delivered to his gut and left him trembling.

“Enough Tōsen. I need him conscious.”

Glaring in defiance, Ichigo balled his fists, straining once more under the tight, invisible binds around his arms, if he ever got free he was going to... He was going to what? Probably get crushed by Aizen's reiatsu before he even lifted a finger.

Renji was hoisted up sharply, thrown face first over the desk in the corner of the room with Aizen pinning him in place; Ichigo's stomach did a flip as he caught sight of his friend's expression. There was fear, naturally, but almost in comparison to his own feelings he could see burning resistance.

“You have been working with Kuchiki for quite some time now, Abarai, I suspect your personal sense of pride is almost as great as his at this point. I'm going to tear it apart, if you are still breathing at the end maybe you can convince your foolish, foolish friend to give me what I want.” Aizen's voice was calculating, cruel and the purest resemblance of his true self.

“You'll find me hard to break, Traitor, Inuzuri Dogs are notoriously stubborn.” The redhead hissed, jaw setting as his hair was yanked on again.

There was that smirk, the one that had always made Ichigo's heart race in anticipation and excitement, but now the organ quivered in silent fear and disgust. Aizen was pleased by Renji's defiance, Ichigo knew that and the man would enjoy getting what he wanted even more.

“Don't do this.” He grunted, balling a fist, “Renji has nothing to do with this, he doesn't even know where the Hōgyoku is!”

“You expect me to believe that?” The brunet scoffed, eyes flicking to his.

Ichigo gulped under the attention but persisted, “You said yourself that you were surprised to hear Renji was capable of any sort of brain function... Let's be honest, he isn't. You think Byakuya and I would have trusted him with that kind of information? He has never been able to keep his trap shut for anything or anyone!”

There was a long moment of silence in the room, Ichigo barely dared to breathe in case it changed Aizen's mind in some way; Renji looked furious, uncertain if it was because of the thinly veiled insult on his intelligence or the fact Ichigo was trying to protect him. The strawberry couldn't meet his stare.

“You are probably right,” The brunet murmured after what felt like eternity, glancing down at the redhead, “However, he makes for excellent leverage against you. Can you truly sit there and watch me break him, while holding your own tongue?”

The Third Seat growled, eyes narrowing, “You hurt one hair on his head... And I _will_ kill you.”

“An interesting threat from someone in your current position.” Tōsen's voice was smug from behind him, but only served to feed his anger.

“ _ **What's this? Ya just gonna sit there, King?”**_

Ichigo flinched, looking around the room for the source of the new and unfamiliar voice. He was sure that the only people present were Aizen, Renji, Tōsen and himself... But then where had that voice come from? What did it mean? How could he do anything but sit there? A shiver crept up his spine, that voice roused a deep seated anxiety within the pit of his belly. It was... Dark. Watery. Almost reptilian.

He was jolted from his confusion by the sound of Renji screaming; his gaze snapped towards his childhood friend and faltered at what he saw. The redhead appeared to be looking blankly in his direction, eyes unfocused and unseeing, and yet full of trauma.

What the hell was he seeing?

Renji's screams grew louder, more troubled, like his very soul was being torn in two. Ichigo didn't understand what was happening, Aizen hadn't moved, he was still just stood there holding the Fukutaichou in place. But there was a sadistic smile on his face now.

“W-What are you doing to him?” He demanded, he had a terrible feeling he already knew.

Aizen seemed reluctant to draw his attention from what was happening, but slowly looked over, “Kyōka Suigetsu is a useful tool for such interrogations. With a mere thought... I can make him see his very worst nightmare and he will live it as if it were real.”

Wincing as Renji's cries became desperate, he watched his friend's body shake and he felt his eyes sting with tears he refused to shed in front of Aizen. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“Why can't I see what he sees?” He asked, maybe if he distracted Aizen he could help Renji break free of the illusion.

“Simply put... I never showed you my Shikai. An oversight on my part, one which I plan to correct as soon as we are finished here.”

Ichigo's eyes widened momentarily at the news, falling silent as he considered this new information. He knew from talking with many of his friends who were Fukutaichou that Aizen had shown them his Shikai, deceiving them into thinking his Zanpakutō was a running water type, rather than a hypnosis type. Which meant his friends were under the influence of the sword's powers. In comparison, Aizen would have had to show his Shikai to the other Taichou when he took the position at Division Five which meant...

Glancing in Tōsen's direction, he understood the implications. He had no doubt in his mind as he came to the conclusion that the only people never to have seen Kyōka Suigetsu's power were Tōsen, Gin and himself. They'd followed him willingly.

He had to do something! There was only one way he could get the strength he needed to try and protect Renji. It wasn't going to be pleasant. He wasn't even sure if it would work but... He needed power. He had to find that at the very core of his being. Somewhere within the medley of memories he hadn't dared to address properly since recovering them. This... This was going to be very painful.

Sucking in a breath, he allowed his eyes to close, sinking into his Inner World as he blocked out Renji's screeching. It was something of a relief to discover that the skyscraper scenery of his Inner World had repaired since his last visit, the buildings stood tall and majestic once more and filled him with a faint sense of comfort. He had never understood why his world looked like it did, the skyscrapers drenched in blue and black, the cloudy sky swirling devilishly above. The floor always looked wet, like it had been raining. Zangetsu hated the rain. Ichigo hated the rain as well.

Why was that?

Looking around, there was no sign of the grim Zanpakutō spirit, maybe even Zangetsu knew he needed time alone and in silence. If that was the case, he was grateful.

He sat down on the pavement, crossing his legs and resting his hands in his lap, sucking in deep breaths and puffing them back out with a stammering slowness which made him dizzy at first. Concentrating, concentrating so hard it was almost on the verge of painful. He had to do this. He had to face it. He had to go back _there_.

_It was raining, the sound of heavy droplets splashing against the umbrella over his head and under his boots was the second loudest sound he could currently hear. The loudest, easily drowning out everything else, was the warm echoes of his mother's voice._

_His small hand was clasped in her larger one, her palm was soft like silk and warm around his chilled grasp. Her smile was enormous as she praised his hard work at school, there were promises of his favourite dinner in celebration of his good grades and behaviour._

Ichigo gasped, eyes opening in a flash as sickness churned in his gut, he was shaking like a leaf, looking around he saw he was still within his Inner World, the sky above him had turned an ominous shade of grey, clouds were rolling and peaking, threatening a storm. It was tremulous as it was baleful, but he knew he had no choice but to push through it. He had to feel it for himself. He had to unleash that rage.

_Kicking a football lazily against the garden fence, hoping dinner wouldn't be long, it was still pouring with rain but he'd insisted on playing outside while his mother cooked, on the promise that he would shower and dry before eating._

_He grew distracted as a black butterfly fluttered past his vision, wings crested with a vibrant pink wave that almost seemed to glow. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, except for his mother's smile. That had pride of place._

_The butterfly flew around his head a few times before disappearing towards the gate; he ran to follow it, curious about where it was going. Rushing forwards, he threw the gate open and darted out onto the path outside, looking around urgently._

_It was gone. But to his right was the tall figure of a man, just stood there watching him with a peculiar expression on his face. Chocolate brown eyes were half hidden behind square glasses._

Groaning, he felt the wall behind him shaking violently, he could see the flash of lightening even with his eyes shut tightly, he didn't dare look up as he heard a ripple of thunder from somewhere in the distance. Fat rain drops spattered against his prone form as he pushed himself there again. He was close. He had to see it for himself. Had to feel that pain.

“ _Who are you, Mister?” He asked, blinking at his strange clothing, it looked very traditional._

“ _You can see me?” The brown eyed man asked, looking mildly surprised._

“ _Well... Yeah. You're stood right there.” He laughed, looking back towards his house as he heard his name being called, “Oh, I have to go! Are you going to be alright? You'll get sick standing around in this rain for too long.”_

_The man moved closer and crouched down in front of him, smiling warmly, “How kind of you to worry about a stranger. What is your name?”_

“ _Ichigo.” He smiled brightly._

“ _To protect one thing... An interesting name indeed.”_

“ _Huh? People don't normally know what it means.” Rubbing the back of his neck shyly, he faltered as his name was shouted again, “I really do have to go. Unless... My father runs a clinic, maybe he could check you over so you don't get sick.”_

_There was surprise there again, “That would be very kind, but I wouldn't wish to impose.”_

“ _You wouldn't be! I'd feel terrible if you got sick and we could have helped. Come on, Mister!” He reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the house._

He was retching, sweat rolling down his face. He could feel water swelling around him, already touching up to his ankles. Was his Inner World flooding? No, he couldn't let himself be distracted. He had no choice. He had no other options. It was this or let Aizen win. Even if it killed him... He had to see it through. He had to remember! He had to remember the fear!

“ _I-Ichigo... Get away from him now!” His mother exclaimed, dropping the bowl of food she had been holding._

_The bowl shattered as it made contact with the floor, chicken noodles splashing over the wood and echoing far more than it probably should have. Thundering footsteps came from upstairs and Ichigo saw his father rushing towards him, only to freeze on the spot as he saw their guest._

“ _What's wrong? Mum? Dad?” He looked between them in bewilderment, “I found him outside, Mister's gonna get sick so I thought we could treat him in the clinic.”_

“ _Get away from him, come here now!” Masaki's voice was shaking, her hand extended towards her son pressingly._

_He stumbled over to her numbly, confused as to why she sounded so angry, he took her hand and blinked towards the man he'd met outside, he seemed utterly calm and undeterred by the hostility of his hosts._

“ _What are you doing here, Aizen?!” Isshin demanded, fists clenched._

“ _I doubt you would believe me if I said I was in the neighbourhood...” The brown eyed man chuckled softly, “It's been a long time, Isshin. I didn't realise you were still alive.”_

“ _I won't ask you again. What are you doing here?!” His father growled._

_The other man, Aizen, merely laughed again, hands disappearing into the pockets of his strange outfit, “I sensed a strong reiatsu in the town while I was on a mission, it seemed oddly powerful for a Human to possess, so I wished to see what was creating it. But now I see.”_

_Ichigo swallowed softly as the man's eyes seemed to linger on him. He had no idea what 'reiatsu' was or why it was important to the man's mission, but he no longer felt entirely comfortable in his presence. There was something less than friendly in his eyes now._

“ _You will not touch my son.” Isshin moved again, putting himself between Aizen and his wife and son._

“ _I shouldn't be surprised really...” The man murmured, “It seems perfectly reasonable that any child of yours would be immensely powerful, especially given your choice of wife.”_

“ _Get out of my house!”_

_Ichigo had never heard his father raise his voice before, he clung to his mother's side just a little tighter before his gaze was drawn by the sound of his two sisters stumbling into the room, clearly curious about what was going on._

_Aizen's eyes seemed to follow his and a calculating smile appeared on his face, “Huh, not one but three? You have been busy.”_

“ _Get out!”_

“ _No.” It was a simple answer for sure, but it held all the pressure of a tsunami behind it._

_Hand flying out of his pocket, Aizen held up a small spherical ball of glimmering, swirling light. Apparently a reflex, Masaki grabbed her husbands' arm and pulled him back towards her, trying to shove him behind her body much to his yelling and refusal._

_Ichigo couldn't hear it anymore though, his eyes were trained on that ball of light, it was so very pretty. And consuming._

_Spears of illumination shot out suddenly in all directions, cutting through furniture and walls like they were nothing; Ichigo let out a yell as one headed straight for his mother and before he could even think... His body moved by itself and he put himself between the oncoming danger and her._

He threw up, rolling onto his knees and letting out a cry of pain, eyes still scrunched tightly shut as he felt chilly water up around his waist. This was it.

_Everything was a blur, from the moment the light hit his chest to the second he collapsed. All he knew was that when he was finally able to focus his vision again, blood splashed every surface around him. He was drenched in it. Wide eyes peered around the room, looking at the macabre scene of violence._

_They were all dead. His sisters lay together, almost in pieces near the dining table, Karin was laying over Yuzu like she had tried to protect her from whatever had done the damage, but it hadn't been enough to stop it. His father was just a foot away from him, bloody and contorted in ways he couldn't imagine him having managed while alive._

_His gaze dropped down as he felt something squishy under his fingers and he found his hands buried in his mother's cardigan. She looked like she had been ravaged by a wild animal, eyes wide and unfocused, expression aghast. He screamed._

Ichigo roared, eyes flashing open as he found himself back in Aizen's office. His own bellow drowned out Renji's screams as his reiatsu rocketed skywards in density, staggering to his feet as his face twisted into a horrific mirror of his own rage; he strained, strained so hard he thought his body would break.

But it didn't. The only thing which broke was the Kidō holding him in place, invisible bonds shattering under his strength.

Aizen flinched at the abrupt sound and pressure building in the room; his gaze snapping to Ichigo and widening at the sight that met him. Watching as Tōsen was thrown clean through the window by Ichigo's flying fist.

His blood ran cold as the strawberry haired Shinigami turned to face him, chocolate eyes being greeted by glittering gold.


	17. Concerning Central 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accessing some of the hidden power within, and with at least a spattering of his memories intact, Ichigo confronts Aizen. Meanwhile, Byakuya receives two unexpected guests who know more than he had imagined.

Ichigo had never felt power like it. It pulsed through him like a second wind, revitalising and electrifying, making him feel as light as a feather, but as strong as an ox. He'd sensed Tōsen move before he'd heard him, and had acted accordingly.

His body moved like water as he ducked the other man's Zanpakutō, a hand flying out and striking him in the face; he watched as he was thrown backwards through the office window, the sound of shattering glass was sure to draw attention, even if his sudden explosive reiatsu didn't.

And then, his attention turned to the man at the head of the room. There was an expression of stunned amazement in those deep chocolate eyes, as well as pure admiration. For the briefest of moments, Ichigo felt proud of that reaction – for the longest time it was all he had ever wanted to see, all he had ever wanted was for Aizen to truly praise him. But that momentary elation was crushed by the surfaced memories he had dredged to the front of his mind.

He was cracking. Where rage and fury roamed, they were followed by chaos and insanity. He could feel the entwining sensation of those powerful emotions swirling in his mind, he had to fight back the urge to laugh.

“Let... Renji... Go...” He snarled.

To his surprise, Aizen's fingers immediately left those scarlet locks of hair, and the Fukutaichou slumped to the floor, apparently still dazed from whatever it was he had been traumatised with. Taking slow steps forward, Ichigo's expression never changed as he drew closer, reaching out a deathly still hand until he was able to snatch up the front of Aizen's shihakusho and yanked him in close.

“I remember that night.” He whispered, “The rain... The storm... You on the pathway... I invited you into my home... I offered to help you... And in return you butchered them...”

Aizen's face revealed nothing, “You are remembering incorrectly, Ichigo. Put me down, and I can help you see the truth.”

“The truth? You wouldn't know the truth if it slapped you in the face, you lying bastard.” He hissed between clenched teeth, “You destroyed my life.”

“I gave you life.” He breathed.

“No!” Ichigo snapped, “You took everything from me! You murdered my mother, my father... Even my sisters! They did nothing to you! Nothing!”

Snatching his Zanpakutō from where it had rested near the wall, he swept it down towards Aizen. He was going to end it. He was going to avenge them. Zangetsu stopped. Ichigo faltered, glancing at the blade and wondering why it was no longer moving, until his eyes slowly focused on the single finger that had been placed in the way.

A gasp escaped him as pain rippled up his chest, blood seeping down his front as he staggered backwards and hit the floor, Zangetsu dropping from his fingers as Aizen stood over him, unharmed.

“You truly are beautiful, Ichigo. And you have grown more than I thought possible. But you aren't strong enough to cut me yet.” The brunet's voice was oddly soft, and then he spoke again, but it was almost as if he wasn't addressing Ichigo anymore, but rather the power behind his sudden surge in strength, “Step back now, our business isn't finished.”

A momentary struggle seemed to take place, Ichigo could hear a frustrated snarl somewhere deep inside his mind, inside his Soul. And then he felt his energy sap, his body weakening as the incredible rush he had experienced seemed to... Dissipate obediently at Aizen's command. He let out a weak moan of pain as his chest wound pulsed, truly letting him know it was there as his second wind faded. He felt his hands shaking at his sides as Aizen drew closer, dropping down so that he was kneeling over the crumpled strawberry.

“I'm so proud of your growth, you know. I simply wish it hadn't been as a result of your betrayal.” Aizen leaned down slowly and stroked his cheek, it was almost affectionate, “I am willing to give you another chance, Ichigo. Tell me where the Hōgyoku is... And everything I ever promised you will still be yours.”

It hurt. For some reason his usual healing talents weren't working, he found himself wondering briefly if it was because Aizen had banished the Hollow power that had been bolstering him. Aizen's touch hurt more though, it was so warm and so full of promise. He could feel himself sinking into it, believing it, wanting it.

It was sick. But that was the summary of their connection really, wasn't it? It had always been sick. Twisted. Depraved. It was part of the reason they worked so well together. Neither of them were above committing atrocities that would break the minds of lesser men.

No matter what Byakuya could offer him, not even all the tenderness and care in the world could truly heal him. There was no cure for what he had. He could run from one end of the world to the other, he would still belong to Aizen. Because that is what he was. Aizen's. Everything he had, everything he was, had come from that man.

He knew how the Hōgyoku worked. It was capable of dissolving the boundaries between Shinigami and Hollows, allowing one race to attain the powers of the other. And yet there was another side to the small orb, something far more sinister, and yet far purer. It's true power was its ability to sense the hearts of those around it, and to materialise their deepest desire.

His life; his power; his determination, all of it, was the result of Aizen's deepest desire. The desire to create something better than a Shinigami, better than a Hollow, better than both. If he had wanted to kill him, he would have been dead along with his family, but the willpower that had struck him that fateful night had been the will to create, rather than to destroy.

“Aren't you tired of walking among people who are less than yourself?” Aizen asked, lips brushing his ear, “Aren't you tired of holding back? Spending more time afraid of hurting someone because they are far weaker than you are is no way for someone of your talents to live. Even if it is subconscious, you lock away your biggest assets out of a misguided sense of protecting the people around you. Do you remember what I promised you, Ichigo?”

He swallowed thickly, looking up at the ceiling, “You... Promised me a place among people who were strong enough to withstand my power. People who wouldn't crumple and die. People who wouldn't be afraid of me.”

“That's right. And I will still give that to you, I still want that for you.”

It was getting hard to breathe, he let out shuddering gasps as his gaze slowly moved to meet Aizen's, there was no hint of a lie in his voice nor on his face. He really would still give him what he'd promised. All it would take was his cooperation and...

“Ichigo!” Renji's voice cut through the darkness in his mind like cold steel, “Don't listen to him! Remember what you stand for!”

“R-Renji...” He licked his lips, brows furrowing as his head exploded with pain, so many thoughts clashing from one side to the other.

Surrender or fight. Give in or stand strong. Rise up or be crushed. Live or die.

A wordless Kidō darted from Aizen's fingers, rendering Renji unconscious against the wall before his attention returned to the struggling strawberry beneath him, “I can give you everything you have ever wanted, and more. You know that to be true.”

“You can never give my family back.” He whispered.

“No, I cannot.” The brunet agreed, “But I did not take them from you to begin with. I didn't kill them, Ichigo.”

“Then who-”

“It doesn't matter.” The brunet stroked his cheek again, the backs of his fingers were soft, “I want you by my side. Tell me where the Hōgyoku is.”

“It... It...” He couldn't understand why he was choking on the words, the sudden desperation to tell him everything had bubbled up from nowhere, it was hard to ignore.

Ichigo felt a bead of sweat roll down his face, unable to tear his eyes away from Aizen's. They looked so warm in that moment, so unlike what he was used to. It was almost as if he was being genuine. Was he being genuine? He couldn't be... Could he?

“ _ **What are ya waitin' for, King? Tell him. We both know ya wanna do it.”**_

A small gargle escaped his lips, brow furrowing at that voice again. Who the hell was that anyway? He shivered, dropping his head back restlessly as his fingers twitched at his sides. Did it really matter who he kept hearing? They were annoying. Appealing to his darker nature like some kind of leech.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, biting his bottom lip for a long moment, “But I can't tell you what you want to know.”

Aizen seemed surprised by his decision, and released a heavy sigh, “Very well. Gin?”

Ichigo tipped his head back as far as he could, seeing Gin stood near the doorway, the silver haired fox was as silent as could be and yet that smile was etched widely across his face like a sneer.

“Yes, Aizen Taichou?”

“It appears a different tact is required, so for now you may dispose of Abarai, he is merely... Cluttering the room.” The brunet watched Ichigo's face carefully for any sign of relenting.

“No...” The strawberry breathed, struggling under the man with renewed vigour, panting hard as pain blossomed across his bloodied chest, “No! Gin don't!”

“Ne, Ichi-Berry, an order is an order.” The fox didn't seem sorry at all as he drew his Zanpakutō, pointing it in Renji's general direction, “Shoot to kill, Shinsō.”

Eyes widening as he watched the blade shoot forwards, growing exponentially fast, he let out a yell as Renji was struck in the stomach. The impact was enough to rouse him from unconsciousness, a cry of pain escaping the redheaded man as his body convulsed at the new pain.

As the sword contracted again, Renji slumped to the side, Ichigo could see a thin line of blood spilling from between his lips and he let out another cry of disbelief, fighting harder under Aizen as his heart sank deeply with regret and guilt.

He slouched, half heaving for breath as he glowered up at the brunet above him, rage was seething through his blood like a scolding magma. He hated himself for how close he had come to falling for his deception, that urge and desire to surrender was sickening.

“Rukia...”

Ichigo's eyes widened briefly as he heard the whisper tumble from Renji's lips before he saw his chest stop rising; his gaze slowly lifted to Aizen's face and there was a look of consideration there which greatly unsettled him.

“Gin,” a slight head tilt, “You mentioned that your suspicions concerning Ichigo were confirmed entirely only after you threatened to visit Kuchiki's sister, yes?”

“That's right.” The fox nodded once.

“I see.” Calculating eyes narrowed, “And we were discussing earlier today how much time Abarai has been spending with her.”

“We were, yeah.”

A smirk, “I rather think Abarai has answered my question.”

“No.” Ichigo croaked, “No, he hasn't. He's got a thing for her, nothing more!”

“I'm disappointed, you used to be so much better at lying Ichigo.” Aizen raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps Kuchiki didn't have as much of a positive influence over your training as I first thought.”

Swallowing, the strawberry tried to find something to say, anything he could say to dissuade him. Rukia was in danger and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He grunted as Aizen stood up, nudging him aside with his foot; the brunet was searching his draws again for something before he pocketed an item that Ichigo couldn't identify at his current angle.

“Track down Rukia Kuchiki and take her to Sôkyoku Hill, Gin. Have Tōsen investigate the whereabouts of the other Taichou before contacting our _other_ friend, and have him meet us there. It is time to make our move.” Aizen stared down at Ichigo as he spoke.

Ichigo didn't hear Gin reply, but heard the door snap shut to signal he had left. He quivered on the spot, dragging one hand out from under himself and digging his nails into the floor, trying to push himself up onto his knees. Rukia was in danger. He had to warn Byakuya. Violent coughs racked his body, fresh blood spilling from the ugly wound in his chest, his healing capabilities still hadn't taken effect and he was starting to feel a chill.

Was he dying?

A strong arm wrapped around his waist and lifted him with apparent ease, he faltered as he found himself pressed up against the man he would have followed to the very pits of Hell once, Aizen was looking at him deeply as if trying to see an answer in his eyes. He wasn't sure what the question was, or even if he wanted to know. But he was sagging against him regardless, losing the will to fight. Even staying awake was a battle now.

“Let's go, Ichigo.”

“R-Renji...” He breathed, glancing over his shoulder towards his friend.

“Is dead. There's nothing you can do for him now.” Aizen didn't sound sorry, but there was a touch of something that Ichigo couldn't identify.

Drooping in his arms like a flower long starved of water, Ichigo felt the world shift around them, blurry vision taking a moment to acknowledge the speed of the man's Shunpo. He felt like that probably shouldn't have been important, but as unconsciousness swallowed him whole he couldn't help but make a note of it. Silly really.

* * *

It was already growing dark outside the Kuchiki mansion, Byakuya had barely sat still since Renji had left not long after Ichigo. He'd expected some news by now, something to explain what the disturbance had been at the Division, or even for Ichigo to have returned. Despite the fragility of their new found relationship, and the turmoil which had come before it, he'd grown to trust the strawberry haired Shinigami almost implicitly, if Ichigo said he'd be back then he would be.

And yet, the strawberry's reiatsu had almost entirely disappeared once arriving at Division Six. That fact alone sent pangs of fear through the nobleman. But maybe Ichigo was merely suppressing it for some reason. He knew in the back of his mind that was a foolish notion, Ichigo could barely suppress his power at the best of times...

So what was keeping him away? For something that was apparently 'minor' it was taking some time to clear up.

Then there was Renji, his Fukutaichou had promised to send a message about how Rukia was doing, and yet there had been nothing. No Hell Butterfly, no flickering of reiatsu, just silence.

Surely it was too much of a coincidence for the pair of them to fall off the radar at the same time. In fact he was certain of it. Something had happened. Something bad. There was no other explanation. There couldn't be.

Residing himself to that fact, the Division Six Taichou snatched his Zanpakutō from its resting place against the wall and left the study, taking stiff strides towards the entrance hall of the mansion. He stopped in his tracks as he watched one of his many attendants rushing to answer the front door, he was curious as to who would visit his residence so late at night, and was beyond surprised to sense two familiar reiatsu.

“Momoru, I'll handle this, return to your duties.” He called out to the maid who had almost made it to the door.

She glanced at him and bowed deeply before backing away, disappearing down one of the many secret passages hidden throughout the walls. He barely gave it a second thought, and closed the gap between himself and the door, opening it wide and staring at the two beyond.

“Jūshirō Ukitake, Shunsui Kyōraku... What brings you here so late?” He asked, voice flat despite his attempt to maintain his manners, he had known these two men all his life, the least he could do was be respectful to their faces.

“My, my what a scary face.” Kyōraku mused, “You look even angrier than normal. Perhaps it is a good thing we arrived when we did, eh, Ukitake?”

“It would seem so. May we trespass upon your time for a few minutes please, Byakuya-san?” The white haired man smiled softly at him, but there was an edge to his voice which suggested he had no choice but to agree.

Jaw tightening, he sighed, “Very well, but it will have to be quick.”

Byakuya wasn't sure if it was his grandfather's influence or not, but he couldn't bring himself to do business on the doorstep, so he showed the two men to the office on the first floor, making sure they were completely alone before closing the door and taking a seat behind his desk. From the way his fingers danced over the hilt of Senbonzakura, he was making a poor attempt to hide his agitation from them.

“Is something troubling you, Byakuya-san?” The Taichou of Division Eight looked at him with a defined clarity, despite his usual habit of being intoxicated on the job.

“Perhaps, but as I said, this needs to be quick.” The nobleman dropped all attempts at being polite, glowering up at them, “What is the issue that brought you here tonight?”

The two men shared a look, apparently judging how best to approach the subject given his ill favoured mood. Silently seeming to reach a conclusion, Ukitake stepped forwards, resting a hand on the desk thoughtfully.

“You have been investigating Sōsuke-kun, haven't you?” The white haired man met his gaze with an undeterred warmth.

“I have.” He said simply, there was no point in hiding it from the two of them, they were far too smart for it.

“Have you found anything conclusive?”

“Why do you ask?” His eyebrow twitched in mild irritation.

Ukitake sighed softly, “Because we have.”

“ _What_? You have been investigating him as well?” The noble breathed, “What have you found?”

“Central 46 was broken into, its occupants are dead.” Kyōraku murmured, his grimace solemn, “From the looks of things they have been dead for some time.”

“That's impossible, we have still been receiving orders from Central 46!” He was on his feet, he hadn't even realised it.

“No...” The man tilted his hat dramatically, “We have been receiving orders from an imposter.”

His face paled dramatically, if what they were saying was true then Aizen's control over Seireitei had been far greater than he'd ever expected. Every single order coming in and out of Central 46 had been a fiction, a distraction, a fabrication to hide their demise. But why? Why had he killed them?

“We have shared our findings with Yama-jii.” Kyōraku heaved a heavy breath, “He is assembling the others now, preparing to arrest Sōsuke-kun and his conspirators... I am assuming you know who they are.”

“Gin Ichimaru, and Kaname Tōsen.” Byakuya glanced between them, “How long have you suspected him for?”

“Quite some time, but we were unaware that our... Perception of him was shared by anyone else, otherwise we would have come to you sooner.” Ukitake frowned faintly.

“How did you know about my investigations now?”

“Your Fukutaichou has been spending an unusual amount of time with Rukia-chan, earlier today he came to see us both.” The white haired man folded his arms, expression turning concerned, “He said that he felt he was being watched, and wanted to alert us to the danger Rukia-chan is currently in, just in case anything happened to him.”

Momentarily annoyed by Renji's inability to keep a secret, he then remembered the very reason he'd wanted this conversation to be over with swiftly, he swallowed, “I think he may have been right.”

“Mm?”

“He was meant to report back to me on Rukia's condition, but I haven't heard from him since earlier on today.” He paused, “My Third Seat has also gone missing.”

“Kurosaki-san?”

“Yes.” He wondered just how much Renji had told them as he watched them share a brief look, “What is it?”

The men seemed uncomfortable, unwilling to answer, until Kyōraku glanced indignantly towards the window, “On our way here, we sensed a slight disturbance in Division Five, Kurosaki-san's reiatsu was present, however it was incredibly faint as if concealed by sekkiseki stone. We think, perhaps, parts of Division Five have been imbued with it, to suppress the strength of certain reiatsu.”

Byakuya felt his blood run cold and his hand shook, tightening around the sheath of his Zanpakutō, “Aizen knows...” He hissed, “We need to go, now.”

“Byakuya-san?”

“I will explain on the way.” He said bluntly, sweeping past them.

The trio of Taichou made their way towards the heart of Seireitei, Byakuya was intent on going directly to Division Five and confronting Aizen directly, but was stopped as the night sky was illuminated by ash and smoke, the deep seated rumbling of explosions rippling around them. Rubble, debris and flames rose into the sky from Division Three, Division Five and Division Nine, hailing down on the surrounding area in a furious bombardment.

Byakuya's eyes widened as he sensed three Taichou level reiatsu move as one, all heading towards the same location. All heading for Sôkyoku Hill.


	18. Enter, Valiant Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atop Sôkyoku Hill, Aizen's plans are realised and at last the Hōgyoku is within his possession. But not everything goes as expected and a surprise arrival leaves Ichigo recklessly throwing aside everything he holds dear in order to protect the only people who truly matter.

Ichigo was floating, or was he sinking? He wasn't really sure. Everything was a muddle of emotions and feelings and aches and pains. He didn't really feel himself. Kind of detached but not in the way he was used to, it wasn't so much an emotional sensation as it was a psychological one. How odd.

“ _ **God ya really are intolerable. Thinkin' so much even in this state.”**_

Flinching, Ichigo cracked his eyes open. His entire body hurt, it felt as though he had been in a fight with Kenpachi; his chest was sore but as he glanced down he realised the wound he'd sustained previous was healed, without so much as a trace of it ever having existed to begin with. His Hollow had been at work while he'd been unconscious... He wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not, after all, the Hollow had surrendered to Aizen with only a single order. Why was that?

To further his astonishment at the current situation he found himself in, he discovered he wasn't restrained; he sat up as soon as that thought clicked in his head and keeled back over immediately as the world spun in a dramatically sickly manner. Pain spiked through his skull like a spear and made bile rise in his throat.

Blinking through it, he avoided being sick, and instead tried to focus on where he was and what was going on. The ground beneath him was rocky, dusty, uncomfortable. Stone. The bulk of beige stone was familiar, although he was used to seeing it from a distance.

Sôkyoku Hill. It was as intimidating up close as it was from afar. The stark white tower of the Senzaikyū rose up and almost seemed to breach the heavens from his current position – which he noted, was on his back not far from the resting place of the Sôkyoku itself. The huge Zanpakutō was more intimidating up close than it had ever been from the barracks far below the rock face, huge and overwhelmingly powerful, he felt himself shrink inwards in response.

He felt a weight of enormous guilt settle in the pit of his belly, remembering in drabs the events of Aizen's private quarters. Renji was dead, and Aizen knew that Rukia held the Hōgyoku within her very being.

_'Shit!'_

Sitting up, rather more carefully, he looked around the dusty landscape, it was well illuminated thanks to the presence of the full moon overhead. Aizen and Tōsen were stood close together, discussing something which looked important, judging by their expressions; just as he believed Gin was missing completely the silver haired fox appeared from nowhere, his right hand buried firmly in the dark hair Ichigo recognised so well.

Rukia.

She looked terrified, and he was certain that her terror wasn't just because of her perpetual fear of Gin. She was clever enough to know when something was amiss, and to be fair, it was hard to say the situation was normal given how she appeared to have been dragged from her very bed by the fox. Her cheek was bruised and there was a shallow cut above her brow, she'd put up a fight.

“Aizen Taichou, apologies for my lateness.” Gin's smile was unwavering, though Ichigo could see a small cut on his bottom lip, his heart swelling with pride that Rukia had successfully marked the man.

“It is no bother, Gin, I see you have our most honoured guest.” The brunet glanced over his shoulder towards them, “I fear we are short on time, according to Tōsen... Someone blabbed to Yamamoto.”

“Ne, you mean Kuchiki wasn't the only one investigating?”

“It would appear that is the case.” His tone was somewhat less than impressed, “I fear we shall be interrupted quite shortly.”

Taking that as a sign to stop his teasing Gin hastened forwards, throwing Rukia towards the man before his gaze shifted in Ichigo's direction. The strawberry tensed under his gaze and shuffled back slightly, catching himself trying to appear as small as possible was humiliating but in his current predicament he couldn't do anything else.

“Where is _he_ by the way, Tōsen?” Aizen's attention flicked back to his blind companion as he lifted Rukia off her feet with ease.

“Causing mayhem in Division Eleven, I believe.” The black man replied, his tone tinged with distaste, “I still believe it was a mistake to bring him here, he enjoys violence and the destruction it causes far too much, smearing justice and uprooting all that is right.”

“Are ya seriously harpin' on about justice at a time like this?” Gin asked in disbelief, “We are literally betrayin' Soul Society right now.”

“Enough,” Aizen breathed, “He indeed enjoys fighting, but he has been tremendously useful during his stay here, and for that I plan to reward him appropriately. However, before that...”

Ichigo swallowed as he watched the brunet turn his full attention on Rukia, free hand delving into his pocket to retrieve the item he'd brought with him. Slotting his finger into the thin tube, a flurry of reiatsu spurned him momentarily before it transformed, taking on a dark bark-like appearance which spread swiftly up his wrist and arm, gnarled spikes of wood speared their way out of the ground around him.

Aizen looked in his element, pleased and smug as his hand reached forward towards Rukia's body. She screamed in pain as a hole opened up in her chest, allowing him entrance to her very soul; he wasn't gentle. Her cries of pain made that obvious.

Watching in horror as the Hōgyoku was removed only moments later, Ichigo watched Rukia sag numbly, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide yet unseeing. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain of having his soul manhandled so viciously. Aizen tossed her to the ground, turning on the spot as a sigh of glee escaped him, his other hand flourishing the twin orb as the bark dispersed, having done its job.

Aizen held the two Hōgyoku together, watching with an increasing bliss as the two Hōgyoku began to merge, drawing each other close and mingling, sparks flying as the world seemed to snap around them as they joined, becoming one.

Ichigo's heart sank. Aizen had what he'd wanted all along.

The Division Five Taichou sighed softly, rolling the smooth ball in his palm as he considered how well things had gone in the grand scheme of things. All that remained to do was the disposal of the Kuchiki girl, she was worthless now and her brother deserved to suffer for his interference in the entire affair, then they could leave for Hueco Mundo.

Chocolate eyes met chestnut ones.

“Gin, be a good man and dispose of this... Trash.” Aizen's hand found Rukia's hair again and she was hoisted clean off the floor, left dangling.

“Yes, Aizen Taichou.” The silver haired man seemed almost delighted at the order, drawing his Zanpakutō and resting the blade on his arm, aiming it directly towards Rukia's defenceless body, “Shoot to kill, Shinsō.”

“NO!” Ichigo roared, somehow managing to spring to his feet, rushing into a burst of Shunpo with the determination of reach Rukia before the blade did, he knew it was impossible. Gin's sword was too fast.

It was immediate, something Ichigo had become so very familiar with the sight of, and yet this time took his breath away just like every other time had before now. The unrelenting power of denumerable cherry blossoms as they encapsulated themselves around Gin's sword, halting it only inches from Rukia.

Ichigo's gaze snapped around, and he swore he'd never felt more relieved in his life to see the truly enraged expression on Byakuya Kuchiki's face, set like stone but twice as hard, not a single shake visible in his outstretched hand, unhinged fury boiling in his steel eyes. Breathtaking.

Ukitake and Kyōraku were right beside him, Zanpakutō already drawn and in Shikai, their usual carefree demeanour gone and replaced with cold, hard seriousness. He had never seen them look so utterly menacing before.

He almost sank to his knees in relief, people knew about Aizen's true colours. It was over. It was really over.

“You will unhand my sister, Aizen, and release her to me.” Byakuya's voice was cutting, there was no room for negotiation there.

“Is that so?” The brunet asked, glancing at the girl still shaking in his grasp, “If you wish to reclaim her... Take her from me.”

“With pleasure.” The noble growled.

Perhaps it was the impressive personality shift he'd experienced recently, or perhaps it was the stress of the situation catching up with him in its truest form, but as he watched Byakuya Shunpo towards Aizen he was sure the man was moving slower than normal because he was able to keep up with his movements. He felt a tickle of confusion as the man's actions seemed off, for a start he was moving in the wrong direction. What was...

Aizen's eyes met his and a cruel smirk seemed to lift the corners of his lips, in a heartbeat he realised what was happening and his body jerked, moving without permission as a yell broke free from his lips.

“Byakuya!” He shot forwards, feet seeming to glide across the dust; he could see the glint of metal from the corner of his eye and wasn't sure if he would make it in time.

“ _ **Need a speed boost, King?”**_

“Ugh I don't know why the fuck I keep hearing you... But _yes_.” He growled.

A backwash, not dissimilar to an icy bath, swept him away. The swell lifted him and pushed the breath from his lungs as the world seemed to blur and contort around him, a hand shot out and he clasped at the soft fabric of Rukia's sleepwear, pulling her towards him as he carried on moving forwards, holding the bundle of petrified Shinigami against his chest as his free hand moved to where Zangetsu would normally have rested, he gritted his teeth at the empty air, knowing there was only one other way to stop the on coming sword.

Time slowed as the crest hit him, heart stuttering as he saw black film creeping across his vision, swirling and stretching yet not obscuring what he could see. His instinct told him what it was, but he couldn't stop now.

He twisted on the spot, skidding dramatically as he steered his body in front of Byakuya's bewildered one, throwing Rukia towards the noble's open arms.

Ichigo grinned brightly as he saw Byakuya catch his sister, and then turned his attention forward again, sucking in a breath as Gin's blade slid neatly between his third and fourth rib, puncturing through his heart and out the other side; he brought a hand up and clasped it around the blade, stopping it in its tracks as it tried to continue its extension.

He spat blood, body quivering. This was the first time he'd properly been stabbed. It hurt more than he'd expected, but maybe it was the placement of the blade as well, he could feel his heart protesting and straining, it was making his head spin and his face pale, but he refused to relent, fixing his gaze on the silver haired fox.

Gin, for all it was worth, looked shocked. His eyes were open wide, mouth slightly ajar with no hint of his usual smug smile. Ichigo was sure he could see a tremor in his sword hand and could feel the slight reverberation down the blade.

Moving his gaze with a heady clarity, he could see Aizen looking his way as well. The brunet megalomaniac was also startled, but he wasn't sure if it was because Rukia was safely out of his grasp or because his favourite pet now had a blade impaling his body.

He laughed at the thought, it hurt like hell but it made him feel better momentarily to get the bubbling hilarity out. Even at the risk of appearing quite insane.

“Ichi...go?” Rukia's voice was quiet, uncertain.

Glancing back, he looked at Rukia's wide eyes, and Byakuya's horrified ones, it took him a moment to realise they had both been splashed with his blood when Gin's Zanpakutō had broken through his back. Regretful only that he couldn't turn to them and reassure them, he offered a weak smile instead.

“So... How many more times do I have to save your asses before I can start calling in favours?” He asked.

“You're joking at a time like this? Idiot!” Rukia protested, her eyes shining with tears, “W-What were you thinking?”

He was glad she was starting to come back to awareness after Aizen's mistreatment of her Soul, she still seemed pale and uncomfortable but at least she was talking and yelling at him. It was a good sign, at least in his eyes, that she wouldn't suffer any lasting damage.

“... I wasn't thinking.” Ichigo shrugged and instantly wished he hadn't, “Besides, I wouldn't have had to do it if your idiot brother had been looking where he was going properly.”

“W-What is _that_ meant to mean?!” Byakuya hissed.

“You've seen his Shikai too, remember.” Ichigo muttered, giving him a meaningful glare, “He was leading you straight into Gin's line of fire.”

The noble seemed surprised, he hadn't even realised until Ichigo had yelled his name, “But then how did...”

The strawberry gritted his teeth as he felt a curious tugging on the blade in his chest and shot a glower towards the Gin who was trying to free his sword, Ichigo tightened his grip and held it in place.

“You haven't seen his Shikai.” Byakuya realised with a whisper.

“Apparently so.” He hissed.

Ichigo glanced down at the blade for a long moment, the pain was ebbing away but so was his strength, he could feel the tips of his fingers getting colder by the minute and he knew he was on a countdown. The blackness seeping into his vision was moving faster, threatening to swallow him completely. He knew he couldn't fight _it_ , but he could fight _them_.

“One of these days...” He huffed, “I'm going to come up with a better type of plan than this...”

“Plan?” Rukia demanded.

“Well... 'Plan' makes it sound intelligent... But it really, really isn't.” He admitted reluctantly, “Sorry about that.”

“Ichigo... What are you thinking?” Byakuya asked, his voice tight.

His shoulders stiffened at the worry he could hear and he gulped back his hesitation, “I'm afraid that... I'm going to do exactly what Urahara told me not to. I'm going to lose control.”

Leaving no time for a response, fearing the logic it would bring to his temperamental and haphazard thoughts, Ichigo yanked himself free from Gin's blade and let out a harsh cry of pain as the barrier broke down. His heart seemed to falter under the sudden release of his precious life force, body spasming in response as it failed to understand what was going on.

In that moment he could _truly see_ , time slowed to a crawl around him, like his eyes had opened to a whole other world. A figure stood directly in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch, vision focusing he let out a long sigh. Pure white skin, fluttering spikes of snowy hair, manic smile, black sclera enveloping glittering gold irises.

“Yo, King.”

The silvery, reptilian voice was no less unsettling even when he could finally see who it came from, it was uncomfortable to glare back into his own reflection and see something so different. And yet it was exactly what he had come to realise it would be.

This... This was his Hollow, this was the source of the voice he'd started hearing in Aizen's office. This was the creature that had wrought havoc upon Byakuya in Fugai. This was Aizen's creation.

“Yo.” He said softly.

“Ya got a death wish or what?” The albino version of himself was inspecting black fingernails, apparently disinterested in their surroundings.

“Probably. What about you?”

“If you die... So do I. Can't say I'm a fan of that.” Gold eyes narrowed.

Ichigo nodded slightly, swallowing heavily, “I'm not strong enough to do this without you.”

“Finally ready to admit it, huh? Things must be bad.”

“Yeah.” He glanced towards the frozen Kuchiki siblings behind him and clenched a fist, “I'm giving you control.”

“Eh?”

“I said... I'm giving you control. Enough control to do what you did in Fugai...” He clenched his teeth, “If you've got time to question it then you've got time to fight. Take over!”

“I won't go easy on ya.” Those eyes seemed to flicker with excitement.

“Good.”

Time sped back up but it didn't matter, Ichigo's back arched and white foam erupting from his mouth; nose and eyes, coiling itself around his face and down his body. It was faster than last time, he accepted it, no longer fighting or resisting. If he stood any chance of protecting what he cared about... He couldn't afford to hesitate.

His mind grew numb to all feelings except one: _instinct_.

Ichigo knew it was a stupid plan, it wasn't even a plan it was a jumbled suggestion of thoughts and realisations that drove him forwards to act. His Hollow was reckless, uncontrollable and savage. A weapon of death and wanton desire. There was no guarantee of success, no promise of victory. This was about time. Giving the other Shinigami enough time to arrive and intercept Aizen's treachery. That was his hope. And if he _was_ signing his own death warrant, he would do it for the right reasons: his friends.

He wasn't going to die for the Soul King. He wasn't going to die for Aizen. He wasn't even going to die for the distant memory of his lost family. No. This was bigger than that.

He would die for Ukitake. For Kyōraku. For Rukia and Renji. For Kira, Hisagi, Matsumoto and Hinamori. He would willingly die for them. To allow them to see one more sun rise. And Byakuya, the noble had changed his entire life; had turned his world upside down and for a while he'd hated him for it. But now there was nothing more powerful he could imagine to drive him into Death's waiting arms. By the Gods, he would die for Byakuya Kuchiki.

He was sinking fast into an all encapsulating blackness, it seeped into his body and mind, swallowing him like thick and sticky tar, making it hard to draw breath without choking on it. His body protested against the feeling, suffocation making him try to claw for the surface as he was sucked beneath the tidal force of darkness.

The last thing he remembered hearing was laughter. That God awful laughter.

“ _ **If ya are weaker than me, then I'll destroy ya, and take that crown for myself, Ichigo!”**_


	19. Sôkyoku Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's surrender to his Hollow allows many of the other Taichou and Fukutaichou to reach Sôkyoku Hill and witness the treachery of Aizen, Gin and Tōsen. However, the sudden appearance of another traitor throws the fight into disarray.

Ichigo was conscious, barely, floating within some capsule around the outskirts of his Inner World. Parted from Zangetsu, parted from his body. A back-seat passenger, left to watch through someone else's eyes. The Hollow's eyes.

He could see multiple presences arriving on Sôkyoku Hill within minutes of each other. The craggy expanse was a hive of activity as Soi-Fon and her Fukutaichou, Ōmaeda, appeared together. Seconds later Komamura and Iba arrived, followed by Nanao. Then Hitsugaya and Matsumoto. Bringing up the rear, Ikkaku; Yumichika; Kurotsuchi and Nemu appeared at almost the same time. Isane and Unohana appeared just behind Ukitake and Kyōraku. Finally, Kira and Hisagi appeared, both seeming to freeze at the immediate sight of their Taichou in combat with a raging Hollow.

Ichigo winced as he watched his talons cleaving through Tōsen's chest with relentless fury. Angry tail snapping around, slapping Gin in the face.

He felt relieved, seeing the Taichou and Fukutaichou appearing. Aizen couldn't wriggle out of it, everyone could see what was happening. Everyone knew. It was over! Yamamoto was absent, as well as Kenpachi and Yachiru. Though, he was sure he could sense the violent clashing of Kenpachi's reiatsu coming from Division Eleven. He was fighting, so undoubtedly Yachiru would be watching over him.

He saw Byakuya flit across the battle field, carrying Rukia into the waiting arms of Unohana. The woman immediately began checking them both for injuries. He was glad. They were safe. Both of them. Maybe that was enough to make up for him having failed Renji.

The entrapped Third Seat could see his reflection in the drawn swords of the two Taichou his Hollow form was battling. It was horrific as it was breath taking. A combined twist of power and elegant beauty.

Waist length locks of sunset coloured hair whirled with each movement, constrained only at the scalp where it was captured in spiky locks under the terrifying white and black Hollow mask which now concealed his face. Vast, jagged horns reached out from his forehead, casting shadows over his narrowed golden eyes. Blood red tufts of fur coiled around his shoulders like a collar, mimicking the same around his wrists and ankles.

Most of his shihakusho had been torn away by the transformation, a partial sleeve remained intact, as well as his hakama, which was currently missing only the lower part of the left leg. The lack of material revealed pearly white skin which looked as hard as marble, despite the swirling black marks etched across it in tribal markings.

The angry, slapping tail which was not dissimilar to that of a lizard proved to be as much of a weapon as it was a balancing aid. Capable of cleaving flesh from bone with single flicks, as he had already seen it do to Tōsen's right shoulder.

But he had no control. Beyond being permitted to witness what the Hollow was doing, he couldn't speak. Couldn't stop it. Couldn't control it. He was a back seat driver, forced to watch through the eyes of someone far more savage than he had ever been, which was a terrifying thought even in itself.

He had evaluated the battlefield, and assessed that they had been hopelessly outmatched by Aizen alone. Even without the influence of his two conspirators. Gin and Tōsen were just additional pawns in a game Aizen could win alone. Surrendering to the Hollow had been the only course of action, the only thing he could do to provide them with enough time for the other Shinigami to arrive and help.

He was terrified though. He hadn't realised before... Just how powerful he was in this Hollowfied form. He was easily overwhelming Gin and Tōsen even as they fought together, and he didn't have Zangetsu at his side. He was fighting with talons, horns and tail... And a rather devastating penchant for using Cero. Violent blasts of scarlet shot from between the twin horns of his mask, with startling accuracy and speed. Only to be followed up by bone crunching blows with fists and feet.

His Hollow was powerful. Ridiculously powerful. It was manic and insane and death incarnate. But there was a strange distorted beauty within that horrific power. Impulsive and coarse. Amazing. To think he had such a power living within him, to think it had been there for so long and he'd never realised it. Amazing.

He couldn't fathom why Aizen was merely lingering back, watching the battle unfold. Seemingly content to watch as two of his generals were battered and bruised and exhausted to the point of collapse. Even when the other Taichou had appeared, he had remained unmoved. Simply watching. Simply examining.

Ichigo heard a loud purr ringing in his ears, a swell of... Affection? What the-

Tōsen released a stark cry of pain, his body tossed towards the brunet like a lifeless doll, deep wounds stretching across his torso in jagged lines, splashing the dirt with his blood as he crumpled. Unmoving. Not dead, but definitely no longer able to fight.

Ichigo watched as his Hollow turned its' full attention onto Gin. Without the aid of the blind Shinigami, the silver haired fox was now struggling under the immense power of the Hollow. Blood splashing the man's shihakusho and skin, wounds and bruises blooming under the seemingly relentless force that was Ichigo's Hollow.

Gin was on his knees, arms shaking as clawed hands pushed the man's Zanpakutō back towards him, the blade carving increasingly closer to his throat. The Hollow was ruthless.

Gasping as he suddenly sensed Kenpachi's reiatsu disappear, he tried to make the Hollow look around. But it was no use. The Hollow didn't obey him, not in this form. But he was sure he could hear Yumichika and Ikkaku exclaiming their disbelief.

Snarling, spit flying from between jagged teeth, black horns tilted downwards. A large crimson Cero charging between the tips as he pointed them straight towards Gin's face. At point blank range, with his Zanpakutō currently pointing towards his own throat, there was nowhere he could run, nowhere he could hide. The Hollow was going to kill him.

The Hollow's body seemed to stiffen suddenly, head jerking upwards and towards the watching crowd of Shinigami with a sound of growled shock breaking free.

A darker scarlet light blasted through the air over the heads of the Shinigami, streaking forwards with unadulterated speed. It hit his body squarely in the chest, throwing him off balance. His own Cero shot meaninglessly into the sky and fizzled into nothingness as his concentration was broken. Ichigo flinched as he heard the screeching Hollowfied roar that came from his mouth as the teeth parted with a crackling bony crunch.

Ichigo caught a brief glimpse of sharp teeth before a hard body slammed into his own, throwing him to the floor with the force of the strike. Hissing and spitting like an angry cat, his Hollow form struggled against the overwhelming power he felt radiating off the body above him. The dust clearing slowly, Ichigo's eyes widened at the wicked feral grin and lazy locks of blue hair.

Grimmjow's hands were easily pinning his Hollow's down above his head, straddled over him with apparent ease and grace, struggling very little to keep the struggling orange haired Hollow down. Ichigo felt their tail slapping angrily against the ground, low snarls escaping as his Hollow continued to strain and struggle. Fighting to get free.

“Grimmjow...” Gin's voice was strained, his teeth clenched as he slowly got to his feet, staring at his Fourth Seat.

“Sup, _Taichou_?” The blue haired man smirked, eyes narrowed, “Can't handle a fledglin' Vasto Lordes by yourself or somethin'?”

“Tch, he took us by surprise.” The silver haired man sneered.

Grimmjow scoffed, looking towards Aizen, “What do you want me to do with him?”

The brunet seemed to consider his options for a moment, reaching up to remove his glasses, “Break his mask.” He instructed, his own reiatsu flicking out in an angry tongue to shatter the spectacles he was so tired of wearing.

Raising his free hand, Grimmjow's grin only widened as he charged another Cero in his palm, aiming it straight and true towards the widening golden eyes beneath him, “I'm disappointed, they said you'd be fun to mess with. I guess a fledglin' really can't do anythin' though.”

Ichigo felt his Hollow shift, anger roused by the mockery. Yanking more frantically, tail slapping harder, whipping around dangerously. There was panic too, rising trepidation as the Cero grew larger and larger. He had no idea what would happen when it made contact. Would they both die? Would his mask break? Would his Hollow save them at the last moment again?

And Grimmjow... A Hollow?! How?! He was terrible at sensing reiatsu, true enough, but surely someone must have realised! Someone must have sensed it! Unless... Maybe Aizen had constructed some sort of technology to block Hollow reiatsu, to make it seem like it was Shinigami in structure instead... He was smart, it was possible. But then, how long had Grimmjow been in Soul Society? Had he been acting as a spy all along? He'd never known about him! Beyond always getting that uncomfortable sensation that Grimmjow didn't quite belong... Had that been his Hollow's way of trying to warn him?

So many questions. Too many questions! The Cero was fully charged!

He saw Byakuya step forwards, hand on his Zanpakutō but it was too late. The Cero detonated. The ground shook around them, crumbling and crunching. Ichigo heard his Hollow scream. A roar of pain, a broken torrent of rasping screeches as the heat of the blast seared his skin, dug deeply into the structure of his mask. Ichigo could feel the pain too. It was horrific. He found himself crying out too, arms wrapping tightly around himself as his body shook.

He heard a definitive crack, his eyes widening as he momentary felt himself being thrusted forwards. Tossing into the front seat of their mind, it was fleeting, he was shoved back almost immediately. Sinking back into that severed little portion of his Inner World. Trapped again.

The dust settled. Ichigo felt his Hollow's body quaking. They were in the pit of a crater created by the force of the Cero. He could see Grimmjow crouched on the outer rim, looking in at them with a predatory gleam to his features, shihakusho ruined and revealing his sweat slicked torso. Ichigo watched the blue haired man turn as if to ask Aizen something, in that moment he caught a flash of a black Gothic number six on his back. What was that?

Their eyes were struggling to stay open, delirium and pain sinking in and becoming an acknowledged defect. Ichigo let out a small gasp as he saw Byakuya appear at the lip of the crater, the nobleman sparing only a second thought before sliding down into the pit, falling to his knees beside their crumpled form.

He could see their reflection in steel eyes. They were still fully Hollowfied, but their skin was badly scorched, bleeding in places and mottled with blisters. He was sure the smell of cooked flesh was making Byakuya's nose crinkle, but the noble seemed to be ignoring it, reaching out as shaky fingers came to rest on the half exposed face.

Their mask was in two notched pieces, one remained securely in place, despite the steam rolling up from its' edges, while the other lay a distance away in fragments, shattered and broken. They were likely still Hollowfied because of that remaining half of mask on his face, he wouldn't revert to his normal body unless the mask completely broke away.

He could see concern on the nobleman's face, and realised that their chest was barely moving with the breaths they were struggling to take. They... They? Why... Why had he started to consider them as 'they'? It was him and the Hollow, they were not one and the same it was... That wasn't right.

“Ichigo?” Byakuya's voice was whispered, fingertips making contact with pearly white skin, it was so pale he could have already been dead.

He wanted desperately to respond, to tell him that he was okay. But he couldn't. He still couldn't make the Hollow do what he wanted! Damn it!

“Huh, I was aimin' for the whole mask.” Grimmjow's voice was loud, obnoxious and arrogant, “Guess I'll have to try again.”

Byakuya's head snapped around, eyes widening at the sight of the Cero aiming at the semi-conscious creature beside him. In a reflexive response, the raven haired Taichou got swiftly to his feet, planting himself firmly between the blue haired traitor, and his lover.

“You will not touch him again.” He drew Senbonzakura in one fluid motion, angling the blade downwards, towards the floor.

“If I have to shoot through you, I will.” The blue haired Arrancar smirked, “Makes no difference to me, Shinigami!”

“Then do so, you will be dead before it reaches me.” He hissed.

Ichigo's eyes widened in horror, his fingers twitching as he tried to make the Hollow body move. Tried to rouse the Hollow Soul that was in control. Byakuya couldn't do this! He couldn't sacrifice himself like this! He couldn't allow it! He wouldn't allow it!

“ _Byakuya!”_ He cried, feeling his heart aching as the words refused to escape the bubble he was contained in.

“Bankai.” Byakuya allowed his blade to slip from his grasp, the familiar scene of a dozen or more giant katana blades rising around them brought a seemingly strong sense of calm to the noble, “Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.”

The Cero in Grimmjow's grasp blasted towards the Division Six Taichou and the Hollowfied strawberry behind him. Ichigo felt himself tense, screaming out for Byakuya to move. But the words, of course, didn't escape.

Denumerable blossoms erupted from the blades around them, swirling around the Cero with a practised determination. Scarlet exploded, scattering the dusty landscape with cerise petals. Grimmjow looked furious, Byakuya looked smug. Petals shifted, circling the inner rim of the crater, ready to leap into action at a moments notice as the Kuchiki heir glowered at the traitor.

It was a stalemate, of sorts. Byakuya couldn't move without putting Ichigo's body at risk. Grimmjow couldn't move without putting himself at risk.

Everything changed in an instant. The sudden whistle of fast movement through the air was accompanied by a flicker of purple, Yoruichi appeared in a spirited spring of Shunpo, her outstretched foot slamming into Grimmjow's face and tossing the Arrancar back. As she landed, grinning over her shoulder at Byakuya, disappearing again.

Ichigo watched as Yoruichi grabbed Byakuya and hoisted him out of the crater, he could hear the man angrily protesting and struggling.

“Yoruichi, release me! He'll kill him!”

“Relax, Little Byakuya.” The woman's dulcet tones were relaxing, “I'm not going to leave him defenceless.”

“What do you-”

“HOWL, ZABIMARU!”

Ichigo's heart was in his mouth, chest tight with a strangled sob as a flash of red appeared above him. The sight of Renji's extending blade shooting out to coil around Grimmjow's form as the Fukutaichou landed on the lip of the crater, free hand rising to the body sized blade slung over his back.

Renji tossed Zangetsu into the pit, Ichigo saw it clatter to the ground beside his Hollow body and gritted his teeth, snarling as he willed the Hollow to react.

“Wake up, idiot!” Renji's voice was low and moody as he glowered down at him.

Talons twitched in response, hand slowly creeping out as Ichigo clenched his fists in his Inner World, releasing a low snarl as he forced the Hollow body to move. As the clawed hand snapped closed around the hilt of the blade, Ichigo felt his Hollow suddenly rear back into life and the stranglehold on his own being tightened again.

They were on their feet, gold eyes flicking over Renji's form to assess him. There were think red bandages wrapped tightly around his middle, a red smudge leaking through. But there was a determination burning in his eyes. Thank goodness.

The Hollow body released a groan, forcing itself up onto its feet. Ichigo clasped his hands together as he watched from his small capsule. They clambered up out of the crater, coming to stand beside their redheaded friend.

“R-Ren... Renji?” The voice that came from between jagged teeth was off, not quite Ichigo's not quite the Hollows'.

“I know, I know. I look like shit. So do you, for the record.” The redhead muttered, unfazed by his best friend's current appearance, “Let's finish this. For Rukia.”

There was hesitation, but slowly, the Hollow lifted Zangetsu and pointed it towards Grimmjow. The blue haired man had narrowly managed to escape Zabimaru's choke hold and was now seething as blood splashed down his chest from the ugly wound in his shoulder. He looked even more feral than before, and twice as angry.

Renji lifted Zabimaru as well, the blade snapping back into position as they glowered at their enemy. The two men couldn't have worn two expressions more dissimilar. Renji was solemnly determined, while Ichigo's Hollowfied face bore a manic stretched grin that flashed teeth and gums beyond the ragged teeth of the remaining segment of mask.

As they prepared to attack, Ichigo faltered as he felt his Hollow freeze, body lurching as if touched by some unknown force; his smile vanished in a heartbeat and was replaced by an angry, fearful grimace. Golden eyes nothing more than slits as they slowly flitted across the battlefield, coming to rest on the brunet haired Shinigami who was simply... Watching them.

“ _What are you doing?! Don't stop now! Move! Move!”_ Ichigo crowed at his Hollow side, confused about the sudden change.

“ _ **C-Can't...”**_

“I think you've had far more fun than you are used to.” Aizen's voice was calm, he began walking forwards slowly, “It is time for you to go back.”

“No!” The voice that escaped their lips was completely reptilian this time, Ichigo knew it was the Hollow speaking, “I won't... Not this time! No... You can't make me... You can't... Make me... S-Surrender... S-Stop it!”

“Go. Back.”

“No!” The Hollow fired a weak, one horned Cero towards the brunet before his body lurched again, knocking Renji flying by accident.

Aizen's hand rested on Grimmjow's back for a fleeting moment, nodding at the blue haired Arrancar to join Gin. The brunet raised his reiatsu, effectively creating a buffer between himself and the Shinigami Taichou and Fukutaichou present.

Gold eyes peered up into chocolate ones as Aizen came to a stop only a foot away from him.

“You've grown strong since we first met,” fingers reached out, brushing the section of Hollow mask which remained in place, “I am impressed by your growth, but now you are being impertinent and I won't stand for it. When I tell you to attack, you attack. When I tell you to stop, you stop. When I tell you to return, you return. Without question. Do you understand me?”

Ichigo slammed his fists against the barrier keeping him restrained, faltering as he heard that same purring sound again. Surely that wasn't... The Hollow was purring at Aizen's touch? Why? Why would he...

“Yes, Aizen-sama.” The silvery voice replied, expression torn between indignation and contentment.

A pale hand came up slowly, gripping the single remaining horn on his mask. The hand yanked downwards with a whine, the horn snapping off. The mask shattered. The Hollow sucked in a gasp, eyes squeezing tightly shut as black reiatsu lined with scarlet rippled around his body, a weak cry of pain erupted from his throat.

Body convulsing, skin darkening, long hair blowing away in the breeze and turning to orbs of reiatsu, leaving only his normal short spikes. Old and fresh wounds began opening up across his body and bled afresh. Finally, the black slipped back and revealed whiteness, gold orbs turning chestnut as the last of the Hollow's grasp released.

Ichigo flinched, suddenly finding himself in the front seat again, gulping in air. He was shaking from head to toe, panting harshly as he met Aizen's gaze.

“There you are.” Aizen's smile was almost warm, almost impressed, almost forgiving.

“A-Aizen... Taichou...” Ichigo winced, his body felt so cold as blood began spilling free again.

“Your decisions of late are disappointing Ichigo, I had such plans for you...” The man trailed off, glancing skywards as the first rays of sunlight began to shoot over the horizon, “I am truly going to miss that sunrise.”

Black spots were flickering in his vision, they had nothing to do with his Hollow's influence now, the Hollow was quiet. Obedient. Subdued. He felt faint, his knees beginning to buckle.

“You will not be able to subdue the Hollow forever, you know that don't you?” Aizen said suddenly, “Only I can do that.”

“I-I know.” He gasped out, glaring at him as he used Zangetsu as a crutch to stay standing, “Why does he listen to _you_ though?”

“He knows the voice of his creator.” There was a casual shrug as he spoke, lifting the Hōgyoku between them as he allowed the ball to roll between his fingers, “Come with me... And I'll tell you everything you wish to know.”

“I'm staying here.” He grunted.

“You don't belong here, Ichigo.” Aizen reached out, brushing some strands of orange hair out of chestnut eyes, “You belong with me, at my side.”

“Maybe... That's true. Maybe... It's not. But I've made... My choice.”

“I see.”

The Third Seat glanced around sharply, certain he'd heard a tinge of jealousy enter his former superior's tone, that couldn't be right though.

“Aizen Taichou?” He found himself wheezing out.

“Yes?”

“Did my family... S-Suffer that night?” He wasn't sure why he was asking, he expected a coy answer, nothing concrete and nothing that would put his heart at rest, but the question had bubbled to the surface without permission.

Aizen appraised him for what felt like eternity, stepping closer and leaning down slightly, allowing his lips to brush Ichigo's ear, “It was over in the blink of an eye.”

His back stiffened at the contact but he made no move to pull away, his lips turning downwards as his eyes stung, he felt like a small weight had been lifted and allowed him to breathe again, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me, Ichigo. I wasn't the one who killed them.”

It wasn't the first time he'd said as much, but Ichigo wasn't sure if he believed him or not. It was hard to imagine anyone else having done it. All the evidence pointed to Aizen, but the man had rarely lied to his face.

Coldness washed over him and he frowned faintly as his legs finally gave out. He fell to his knees, slumping forwards as he saw just how much blood he was loosing. The wound in his chest, the wound Gin had given him, was the worst. He could feel his heart struggling against the penetrative wound in it. It was a wonder he'd remained standing so long.

He fell back, hitting the ground with a resounding thud as Zangetsu clattered to the floor beside him. His view of the morning sun was blotted out by the sight of the sky tearing open, dozens of large fingers clawing to get out, revealing the haunting faces of seven huge Gillian class Menos Grande.

Aizen's reiatsu lowered considerably, back to its usual confines, as the Gillians captured him, Gin, Tōsen and Grimmjow within their Negacíon lights. No one on Sôkyoku Hill dared to move until the Garganta had sealed shut once again, but as soon as it had, the Hill was alive with activity.

It was a race to see who reached Ichigo first, Renji and Byakuya were close to arriving at the same time, while Unohana appeared seconds later, Rukia hovered a few metres away with some of the other Fukutaichou who had tried to rush to help.

Ichigo was wheezing, chest barely moving as he stared up at the sky, his gaze was clouded and unfocused and his skin was turning pale, although not as pale as his Hollow form. He was dying, and he knew it. It had always been the risk he'd chosen to take. Part of him had hoped his Hollow side would heal his wounds, and he had while he had been in control, but once that mastery was relinquished everything had come undone again.

“Ichigo, don't you dare fall asleep. Don't you dare give in. Do you hear me?” Byakuya clenched his teeth as he grabbed one of his hands tightly, pulling it close to his chest as he watched Unohana pushing her healing reiatsu through the younger man's body.

“I... I hear ya...” His voice was barely audible between his gasps for breath, head lolling slightly so he could see the noble's face, “R-Rukia... Is she...”

“She's fine.” He swallowed, “She's completely fine. Shaken, of course, but... Unharmed. Thanks to you.”

“Didn't do a-anything.” Ichigo muttered, closing his eyes for a long moment before forcing them back open.

“You're joking, right?” Renji demanded from his other side, his flaring temper acting as a poor shield for his worry, “You took on two Taichou single handedly, you nearly killed Tōsen by the looks of things and you would have had Gin if...”

“Grimmjow...” The strawberry frowned, “Didn't... Didn't know about him... Always gave me... The creeps...”

“None of us realised, it's not your fault.” Byakuya sucked in a breath at just how frail he looked, “You fought admirably. I... I'm proud of you.”

“Wasn't me.” He shook his head weakly, “I couldn't... Have done it... Was the H-Hollow...”

“The Hollow is a part of you. Which means you had a hand in it as well. You don't get to shirk the responsibility after all this time.” Steel eyes were stinging, “It's going to be alright.”

He seemed to go quiet, eyes turning upwards again, “I'm... Scared. What if... It's too late?”

“Too late for what?”

“Too late... For me to... T-To make amends.” He winced and started coughing harshly, blood splashing his chin, “I've done... So many bad things... Hurt so many... People... What if... It's too late? D-Didn't make up... For it all in time...”

“Don't talk like that.” Byakuya snapped, leaning down and stroking his hair back off his face, shuddering at how clammy his skin was, “You're not going to die. You're going to be fine. And when you get out of the hospital, I'll look after you, it is the least I can do to thank you for saving Rukia, and for saving me.”

Ichigo forced a small smile and looked at him, eyes seeming to gain some clarity, “You don't... Need to thank me... B-Byakuya. It... It's me who should be thanking... You.” He sucked in a shallow breath, “I was so... Detached from everything... S-So cold... And unfeeling. I was willing to do whatever Aizen asked... For so long... And you made me realise... I... I didn't have to be like that. You made me feel again. And above all... Y-You made me remember that... I... I am a person... Not a weapon...”

Byakuya laughed weakly and brushed a few stray tears off Ichigo's cheeks, “Oh, well when you put it like that... You're welcome.”

Smile widening, his breathing became more laboured, “Heh... I said... I could never do it... But I lied... I lied so... Completely...”

“What did you lie about?” The noble asked, his voice cracking.

Reaching up shakily, Ichigo brushed his fingers through the noble's hair, “I told you... I didn't think... I could love you... But I guess... You saved me in more ways... Than one...”

Byakuya's eyes widened momentarily before his chest tightened, and despite of the countless people around them, he leaned forwards and captured Ichigo's lips with his own, the taste of blood was prominent, but beneath it was the taste that could only be described as Ichigo. Pulling back slowly, he faltered as he watched the strawberry's hand drop limply at his side.

His ears were ringing, and he heard screaming; he didn't realise until much later that it had been his own voice he could hear. Strong arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him away, letting Unohana work frantically to do her best, he struggled against the hold, clawing and scratching at the arms which had captured him, his throat was dry as he felt tears run down his cheeks.

The smell of saké swirled around his senses and somewhere in the back of his mind, he briefly registered that he was being restrained by Shunsui Kyōraku. He could see through a blur of tears as Ukitake restrained Renji and tried to drag the enraged redhead away – Rukia ran to help, her sobs echoing in his ears as he saw her trying to comfort her childhood friend.

He gave out under the strain, as shock and grief set in, making his body seem far heavier than it really was. The world seemed to turn in a hazy swell that he couldn't quite concentrate on, but as he felt himself being placed on a bed, he allowed himself to lay back in silence.

He was in Division Four, he knew that without having to check, the bed was far too lumpy to be his own. He forced his tears away, embarrassment daring to rear its head. If he grandfather could see him now he was sure he'd have received a stern telling off for allowing his emotions to cloud him so completely, it was unbefitting behaviour for the head of the Kuchiki household.

Stomach flipping as he glanced at his hands, seeing blood that wasn't his he felt the tears return, and in an unusual sentiment for him, he decided to bugger what the family would think, and let them flow free.


	20. Real Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the battle becomes clear, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, Byakuya struggles to cope with his own feelings of failure and believes himself no longer worthy of the position he holds. In a strange twist of fate, a heart to heart with Renji begins to heal the wounds between them and pave the way for real friendship.

It was mere hours after the battle, Byakuya had not moved since Kyōraku had set him on the hospital bed, refusing to talk to anyone who came to see him. He had eventually stopped crying, although he was unaware about when it had happened, but he knew his voice was hoarse and his throat was sore. He was staring out of the window beside the bed, glaring at the sun which was now high in the sky.

The world seemed so perfect from the Division Four window, there were no traces of the destruction Grimmjow had caused in Division Eleven, although all reports suggested it had been cataclysmic in scale, nor could he see Sôkyoku Hill, which was probably a good thing. He wasn't sure he could stomach seeing the place so soon after what had happened.

His grief felt so raw, it was far beyond the lingering memory of his father's death. While Sōjun's passing had been a shock to everyone at the time he had been killed in action, a fitting end for any member of the Kuchiki Clan. They had expected him to pass away from sickness, his father had always been an ill man. Far better for everyone, and everyone's pride that he be able to die in battle.

His death had finalised Byakuya's training- his ability to conceal his emotions, to rise up and become one of the most powerful and influential Clan leaders in history. And yet, that was all shattered now, it was for nothing. His facade of emotional control was broken, along with his only recently rediscovered heart. He had lost it all.

Yes, his sister was alive and relatively unharmed, with the exception of the possible psychological trauma she'd experienced during her horror story. Yes, Renji was alive and kicking, despite it apparently having been a close call; the redhead was currently sitting in the corner of the room with him in an awkward silence. And indeed, he too was alive. But he almost wished that wasn't the case. He should have been the one to die, to protect Ichigo at all costs, as he had vowed to.

He had failed. He had failed himself, his pride, and he had failed Ichigo. The vow he'd made to save him from Aizen seemed utterly shattered now, even if in the end the enigma had become undone and the real Ichigo had shone through, it had been too late. Too late for him to truly break away from the darkness that had tethered him for so long.

Blindly, his hands rose to his hair and he unclipped his kenseikan, pulling them free from his hair and glaring down at them angrily. He couldn't wear them. Not while he was in such turmoil. The leader of the Kuchiki family had to be strong, had to be willing, had to be sure of himself. And he didn't feel any of those things. It took him every ounce of his willpower not to smash the ornate hair pieces there and then.

He would wear them again when, and only when, he felt he had done something to repair his broken pride.

Eyes darting towards the door, he watched as Unohana entered his room, her gaze was subtle but there was no hiding her power. Apparently, the Division Four Taichou was directing her silent fury onto Renji at that moment, her smile sweet but the meaning behind it anything but.

“Abarai Fukutaichou, you should not be out of bed yet. Do you wish for your wounds to open again?” She asked.

“Unohana Taichou...” The redhead faltered under her gaze, before seemingly steeling himself, “I needed to be with my Taichou.”

Her eyes flickered over to where Byakuya lay and he met her gaze unflinchingly, she then returned her attention to Renji, “Be that as it may, you were very badly hurt. If Yoruichi-san had not arrived when she did and delivered first aid... You would undoubtedly be dead now.”

Renji seemed to bristle, “I know.”

“Well, as long as you promise not to move around too much I won't force you back to bed.” She tilted her head slightly, and then turned to Byakuya, “And Kuchiki Taichou, I understand you have refused to allow my subordinates to check you for wounds.”

“I am unharmed.” He stated coolly, his voice was indeed as hoarse as he'd expected.

“Regardless, it is necessary to check you over. The adrenaline might be masking injuries.”

The sharp snap of her pulling on rubber gloves made him wince, he wanted to argue against her wasting precious time on him, but somehow the smile which was still casually seated on her heart shaped lips told him that he would be the one wasting time. He forced himself to relax and allowed her to examine him.

“How are you feeling, Kuchiki Taichou?” She asked as she ran her hands slowly down his back.

He clenched his teeth, shooting her a dark glare, “As I said, I am unharmed.”

“That is not what I was asking, and you know it.” Unohana's hands were the steadiest in Seireitei, but they quivered very slightly as she checked the now ageing scar on his shoulder, “The young man who fought Aizen... Kurosaki-san... He was deeply important to you.”

“He was important to many people.” He muttered.

“And yet his last words were to you, not to them.”

Byakuya swallowed thickly, fighting against the surge of anger which was building inside of his body, he bit his tongue and remained silent, glowering at the wall ahead. Like Ukitake and Kyōraku, he had known Retsu Unohana all his life; he couldn't quite bring himself to unleash his rage against her.

“I was unaware that he was a Hollow, at least in part, that was something of a surprise to many people.” The medicinal woman continued, “And yet, I sense that you were fully aware.”

“He was... Unique.”

“He still is.” Her eyes twinkled slightly.

“What?” He heard Renji repeat his own words at the same time, the redhead was on his feet and walking over.

“What do you mean by that, Unohana Taichou?” The Fukutaichou stood beside her, eyes searching eagerly.

Her smile softened to a more genuine sign of happiness, “He was revived. Kurosaki-san lives on.”

Byakuya felt that anger he had been storing snap and dissipate into nothingness, staring up at her with wide eyes, his heart fluttering with an overwhelming sense of joy, there was no lie on her tongue, nor in her eyes, she was telling the truth.

“How is he?” He breathed, not trusting himself to speak even an octave more.

“Critical,” she replied, pulling her hands back slowly as she finished her healing, “Make no mistake, he is in a bad way. The next twenty four hours will be essential if he is to survive. However, I suspect someone with as much determination as him will pull through.”

“I can't believe it.” Renji gulped, gripping the bed rail for support, “I thought-”

“It was a close call.” She cut him off, “He did die, for a short time, but we were able to bring him back from the brink. There is no telling what sort of effect it would have upon him when he wakes, but undoubtedly the outcome is better than the alternative.”

“Thank you... Thank you, Unohana Taichou!” The redhead turned on the spot, “I need to go and tell Rukia! She's been beating herself up ever since she got here.”

Byakuya watched his Fukutaichou leave the room, the door sliding shut behind him before his gaze shifted to the woman beside his bed, “May I see him?”

“Of course.” She was already removing her gloves, apparently satisfied with his condition, “There are a lot of questions being asked at the moment, people are worried and scared, unsure of how Aizen was able to deceive us all for so long.”

He slid off the bed and secured his shihakusho a little tighter, “His deception runs deep. And has drawn many people in close.”

“Including Kurosaki-san?” She asked, leading him from the room, “From the way he was fighting... It appeared it was personal.”

His jaw tightened a little, unsure how much he could safely tell her without incriminating Ichigo, despite his show of loyalty on Sôkyoku Hill he was certain his previous allegiances would be looked down on, quite severely.

“Ichigo...” He paused, considering his words very carefully, “Was manipulated worse than any of us. But he found freedom eventually.”

“I see.” She seemed sated with his response.

“Is he in danger?” Byakuya asked quietly, looking straight ahead, “I cannot imagine there is a great deal of comfort in knowing he can become something so destructive.”

“You are referring to his Hollowfication?”

“Yes.” He muttered.

She tilted her head slightly as they headed through a small waiting room, “There was some discord among the Taichou, a few wished for him to be handed over to the Research Department, some suggested exile, or execution. However, many of us fought against those suggestions, and as such they were vetoed. After all... The young man risked everything to protect Soul Society, what sort of people exact a punishment for that instead of a reward?”

He let out a small breath, he could already picture those who had threatened harm against the strawberry haired male, Soi-Fon and Kurotsuchi came to mind immediately and he fought to repress a growl, “Thank you for what you have done.”

“It was nothing.” She came to a stop on the outside of a glass room, the curtains were drawn to prevent outside eyes seeing the young man who lay beyond, but she opened the door for the noble and ushered him inside.

Ichigo's body was battered and bruised, near broken in some respects. Tanned skin was marred by black and purple bruises, some of which even now appeared to only just be blooming. His body was coiled tightly in a organised chaos of bandages and protective gauze, which seemed to be stemming his blood loss, though the noble could see darkened patches through the white fabric, a hint that his wounds were indeed as extensive as they had first appeared.

The darkest patch of redness he could see was combated by the thickest bandages, wound tightly around his chest, where his heart had been so utterly damaged by Gin's blade. It was a miracle he'd survived at all.

Byakuya moved forwards slowly, sitting in the soft padded chair at the bedside, he reached out cautiously and rested his hands over one of Ichigo's. His skin was cold to the touch, but not yet icy enough to cause concern. Steel eyes travelled up his form slowly, coming to rest on his face.

The translucent shine of the breathing mask did nothing to hide the extensive facial injuries he'd been victim to, the burns from Grimmjow's Cero were mostly healed but the shadow of them remained, a memory of the horror.

Ichigo looked so much younger than normal, so innocent and vulnerable. His face lax and devoid of emotion, and yet not callous like it had been once. It was gentle, subtle, relaxed. Perhaps Ichigo had finally found some peace.

There was still the overwhelming gush of relief which refused to abate, knowing Ichigo was alive and had a fighting chance of surviving, but there was a lingering shadow of concern and panic for his well being. Looking at him now, it was almost impossible to believe he was the same man who had broken into his office, who had blindly fed Aizen all the information he desired, who had submitted so willingly to corruption and wickedness, all for the sake of having a purpose.

This man, this version of Ichigo, was a broken wreckage, marred by the distorted pigmentation of his skin's haemorrhaging, and yet he was all the more perfect for it. Courage and strength had come forwards in a moment of need, a will and determination to do whatever was necessary to protect the people he cared about the most. He had turned his back on his past, and was ready to face a new future. Ichigo had done exactly what he had vowed to do.

Byakuya was determined to be there to help guide him through whatever came next.

“Just keep fighting,” he said softly, kissing the back of his hand sweetly, “I don't care how long it takes you, I don't care if I have to wait years to see you open your eyes again... Just make sure that you do. I'll wait for you. I'll always wait for you, I swear it.”

* * *

Hours later, Byakuya found himself stood patiently in the assembly room of Division One, surrounded by his fellow Taichou and Fukutaichou, their meeting was one of urgency and despite his desire to remain at Ichigo's side he had been unable to excuse himself from the congregation.

“Are we certain that all the traitors have been accounted for?” Yamamoto growled from his seat.

“Yes, Sou-Taichou.” Soi-Fon responded, “Gin Ichimaru, Kaname Tōsen, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques and Sōsuke Aizen are the listed offenders. We have found no further ties to anyone remaining in Soul Society.”

Byakuya kept his head bowed, the smallest of smirks touching his lips as he considered the favour he now owed his former teacher. Yoruichi had kept her end of the bargain, erasing all evidence of Ichigo ever having been involved with Aizen's treachery, he simply hoped she didn't request a game of tag as repayment.

The old man nodded slowly from his seat, “And what is the condition of Aizen's former subordinate... Kurosaki... Something, wasn't it?”

“Ichigo Kurosaki.” The noble interjected, “He is in a stable condition for the time being, with no signs of improving or worsening. The injury inflicted was brutal, but he certainly has the willpower to recover in time.”

“And what of his Hollow side?” Yamamoto's eyes were narrowed, “How much of a threat does it pose us?”

He lifted his gaze and glared back at the man, he had suspected such a topic would rise again given Unohana's earlier warnings, “His Hollow form is strong, overwhelmingly powerful with the most basic instincts of combat. But I believe Kurosaki can master him and perhaps learn to effectively call upon that power in battle. It will take time, and hard work. But if anyone can do that... It is him. He has an unparalleled desire to protect what is dearest to him, I don't believe he would ever surrender fully while someone was in danger.”

“I see.” There was a stagnant pause while the Sou-Taichou seemed to contemplate things, then he sighed, “Preliminary reports suggest that the boy may be the only person in Seireitei of Taichou level reiatsu who has never been exposed to Aizen's Shikai. How certain are we that this is true?”

Byakuya glanced towards the redheaded man stood just behind him, nodding gently to urge him to speak.

Renji swallowed hard and took a few nervous steps forwards, lowering himself onto one knee and bowing his head, “If I may have permission to speak, Sou-Taichou.”

“Abarai Fukutaichou. Before it may be granted may your own courage in this matter be congratulated. Your bravery in standing against the tyrants will not go unrewarded. Speak.”

“I was... Taken captive by Aizen. He was aware that Ichigo and I are close friends, and he believed he could use my presence as leverage to manipulate the situation...” He lifted his head slightly to meet the older man's gaze, “While present, I heard Aizen state that Ichigo had never seen his Shikai, and that it was something he would have to correct. He never got the chance to do that, however. Ichigo remains unaffected by Kyoka Suigetsu's powers.”

“Thank you, Abarai Fukutaichou.” The man stood slowly, stamping his stick thoughtfully on the wooden floors, “Kuchiki Taichou, my notes state that Kurosaki is close to mastering Bankai. As a matter of top priority, you will ensure he completes his training when he wakes. I want him ready.”

“Ready for what, sir?” He asked innocently, having a gut feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

“For war.”

The meeting was concluded shortly after, Byakuya and Renji left Division One together, a heavy silence falling over them as they contemplated what had happened. The noble glanced at his second in command thoughtfully, the redhead hadn't said anything more or less about his ordeal at Aizen's hands, other than the news that Ichigo hadn't been exposed to the man's power. But there was an intolerable weight on his shoulders, something he didn't seem able to shake.

“Abarai-” He paused, looking straight ahead as they walked, “... Renji. If you want someone to talk to about what happened... I have time.”

“Taichou?”

“You went through a lot in a short space of time, it is natural for anyone to be troubled by it. It might help if you share it with someone.” He glanced at him briefly, “I am willing to listen.”

“I... I wouldn't want to burden you with my troubles, you have enough of your own, Taichou.” The redhead looked at the floor, scuffing his feet slightly as they trudged towards Division Four.

Byakuya was tempted to leave it at that, his Fukutaichou having made his point. He wasn't good at all the soft, fuzzy emotions, he never had been, but as he found himself considering what Ichigo would do in such a situation he let out a breath and stopped walking, forcing Renji to stop as well.

“It would not be a burden.” He stated simply, meeting the other man's gaze sternly, “Bottling it up will do more harm than good.”

Renji seemed surprised by the genuine offer and smiled weakly, “Well... If you are sure it isn't a problem then... I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk about it...”

They began walking again, slightly slower than before, Renji didn't speak again until they reached Division Four, heading inside and finding a quiet place to sit. They weren't far from Ichigo's room, but far enough away that they wouldn't be distracted by his condition.

Renji sat down at one of the small round tables in the waiting area, restlessly fiddling with his own bandages as Byakuya sat opposite him. The redhead seemed to be struggling to begin.

“What happened once you left the mansion?” Byakuya asked, hoping the gentle prompt would help.

“I... I felt as though I was being followed. It was part of the reason I reported to the mansion that day, I wasn't confident that Hell Butterflies would reach you if my suspicions were correct,” he frowned faintly, “When I left, I planned to go straight back to Rukia, to continue watching over her, but... The feeling was stronger than ever.”

“You went to see Ukitake Taichou, didn't you?”

“Yes.” Renji pulled at the knot in his bandages again, “It was a gamble, but I had to warn someone. I had this... Feeling, a gut instinct that I might never see Rukia again. And in case I was right I had to tell someone, make sure they protected her in my place. Ukitake Taichou and Kyōraku Taichou were both there... And I told them everything I knew. Once I started I couldn't stop, even though I knew I probably should. But... They listened, they didn't judge Ichigo. If anything, they seemed sad, but angry towards Aizen. They promised to look after Rukia, just in case anything happened.”

“So they already knew about Ichigo's involvement when they came to see me...” Byakuya thought aloud, he'd informed them of everything on their way towards Sôkyoku Hill, they'd been receptive to the information, never giving him reason to think they were already aware.

“We parted afterwards. They were going to Central 46 to check on things, and I was returning to Rukia when... Ichimaru Taichou... I mean, Gin...” He trailed off, swallowing hard, “I was no match for him, he was too strong. I thought he was going to kill me, but instead he grabbed me and took me to Division Five, to Aizen's personal quarters.”

Byakuya could see Renji was growing tense, his shoulders were quivering slightly and his hands were clenched into fists, “What happened once you arrived?”

“Ichigo was already there, he'd been bound by Kidō and looked a little worse for wear, he was conscious and he was arguing with Aizen about what had been done to him. He was so angry. But he was confused as well. Aizen kept... Turning things around on him, making it harder for him to keep his focus. There were several moments when I thought Ichigo might... Go back to him. It almost seemed like he wanted to a couple of times. He looked... Like he was hurting, like it was hurting him to betray him.”

Byakuya's expression darkened at the news. The idea that Aizen had once again attempted to ensnare Ichigo with manipulation of his feelings stung and seared, leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

Renji swallowed, “Then... I was forced in front of him, I don't know... Maybe I was meant to shake him, meant to scare him... I think it worked because he apologised to me. Aizen realised he was feeling emotion, he connected the dots and realised that Ichigo knew where the Hōgyoku was.” He sighed deeply, running a hand down his face, “That's when my function became more obvious. If Ichigo told him where the Hōgyoku was... I would be spared. I told him not to say anything, and he seemed to muster some courage. Even told Aizen to go fuck himself. I was kind of impressed.”

“What happened next?” Byakuya asked gently, swallowing slightly as he heard how strained Renji's voice had become.

“I... I don't think I've ever been more grateful to be an Inuzuri Dog than I was in that room. Aizen grabbed me and... Threw me over his desk... He was threatening to break me. Break my pride. I just spat back that we Dogs are infamously stubborn... I wasn't going to give in to him. Not a chance.” Renji gritted his teeth, hands trembling so badly that he hid them under the table, determined not to appear weak.

“Your stubborn streak is admirable,” the noble smiled, “Annoying at times, but more valuable than blind loyalty.”

“Thanks... I think.” Renji chuckled humourlessly before taking another breath, “A beating isn't something I can't handle, Division Eleven taught me to deal with far worse. But I could see Ichigo's face and... Something wasn't right. He looked... Scared, not for himself but for me. And... I didn't realise until later why that would be. I don't think Aizen had any intention of beating me. From the way Ichigo tried to defend me, to the point of making me out to be an idiot... He was afraid.”

A frown found its way onto the noble's face, “What... Do you think he was going to do to you?”

The redhead shifted in his seat, looking towards the glass room which contained his best friend, “I truly don't know. But... I know the pair of them had... A twisted relationship, so it makes sense that he'd know the extent Aizen would go to for information. But somehow, because of something that Ichigo said to him... Aizen changed his mind, I think. Instead of whatever he had originally planned to do... He used his hypnosis on me. The things I saw... It was horrific... It was... I don't think I will ever sleep soundly again. It was like he drew out my very worst nightmares and then forces me to live them. Over and over again. Rukia... I keep having to check to make sure she's really still here because... If I close my eyes I live it again and-” Renji released a choked sound, “Shit.”

Renji was quivering like a leaf, his breaths coming out in shuddering puffs. Byakuya reached out and rested a hand on his Fukutaichou's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly, he had never seen Renji fall apart like this before, he was one of the most stubborn, confident and wilful people he knew. Almost to a fault.

“And then... I remember feeling like I'd just opened my eyes for the first time. Ichigo had managed to throw Tōsen though the window, he was... Incredible. The power I could feel rolling off his body was overpowering. And his eyes... Glittering like gold... I always knew he was strong but this was on another level. His reiatsu was so great that... It was terrifying and glorious all at the same time.” Renji looked up at his Taichou, “But... It wasn't enough to stop Aizen. Aizen was too powerful. Even in that state Ichigo couldn't cut him. He ended up being the one who got injured. Then... Aizen was... Sweet talking him almost, offering him a place at his side if he gave him the location of the Hōgyoku. Apparently... That was what had driven Ichigo to him in the first place. The promise of somewhere he could go, to be with people who wouldn't be crushed by his power. I could see the temptation... He was sinking fast... I was... I was really scared that he would give in.”

“What did you do?” Byakuya asked.

“I yelled at Ichigo to snap out of it, Aizen knocked me out for that... And I didn't know anything else until... Gin stabbed me. It woke me... The pain... But not for long. I was in a bad way... All I could think about was Rukia, how she was exposed and in danger, and how I was meant to be there to protect her... I think... I think I said her name... Out loud... It was stupid, so stupid because... I'm pretty sure that's how Aizen worked out that she had the Hōgyoku... I let her down. I let Ichigo down. And... I let you down.”

Renji seemed to slump as he finished speaking, his head resting down on the table top. There was no mistaking his feelings of guilt about what had happened, and while Byakuya expected to feel angry upon learning that Renji had been the one to endanger Rukia's life, he found instead that he was understanding. He got it.

“I do not believe you have let us down at all,” he murmured, “You stopped Ichigo from falling back into the darkness he fought so hard to get out of. You risked your own life to ensure the Hōgyoku remained hidden, and it was only in a moment of failing consciousness that you revealed anything. It was not intentional. It was not malicious.”

“Taichou...”

“No. I will not allow you to wallow in a cavity of self pity, you are my Fukutaichou and I expect you to act like it.” The nobleman took a breath, “You went through far more than I originally realised, and for that, I am sorry. You risked a great deal to protect Rukia, and you did the very best you could. I am... Proud of you, Renji.”

Renji's head snapped up and the look of surprise on his face was almost startling, “T-Taichou... I... Thank you.”

Byakuya felt a momentary pang of guilt. Was his own praise for his subordinates so non-existent that Renji should be so surprised by it? Cursing himself, he realised that in some respects he was no better than Aizen.

He got to his feet slowly and began walking towards Ichigo's room, pausing as he heard Renji move behind him, he glanced around and blinked at the scrutiny on the other's face.

“You know... Kuchiki Taichou... Sometimes you should probably listen to your own advice.” The redhead said firmly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He scowled.

Renji's eyes moved upwards towards his hair, staring at the free locks, “You took them off earlier today, and you haven't put them back on yet. You're beating yourself up for what happened to Ichigo, I'm betting you think that you're not worthy of wearing them right now. But you're wrong. You did everything you could for Ichigo, you went out of your way to help him. He would never have stood up for Aizen if you hadn't shown him that it was an option. I think you're being too hard on yourself, Taichou.”

His eyes widened very slightly as he stared back at his Fukutaichou, trying to work out exactly when the man had become so perceptive. With a small sigh, he realised he had always been that way, it had just taken him a long time to notice Renji and hold him with the regard he deserved, “If I require your advice I shall as for it.” His words were cutting, but his tone was anything but.

The redhead smirked faintly and nodded, “Of course, Taichou. I'll be with Rukia if you require that advice.”

“Look after her well.” He turned his back on the man and continued into Ichigo's room, closing the door firmly behind him.


	21. Fear Of Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things seem grave as Ichigo's condition deteriorates, but hope rises from an unlikely source and before long Byakuya finds himself willingly accepting a new kind of danger in order to save the life of the man he loves.

Byakuya woke with a jolt to the sound of alarms blaring beside his head; his eyes opened in a flash as he sat up straighter in his chair and rubbed a hand down his face, forcing concentration to replace his daze. His heart leaping into his mouth as he saw Ichigo thrashing and jerking around on the bed, suffering from some form of seizure before it stopped just as abruptly, and the heart rate monitor flat-lined.

The door flew open and Unohana rushed in, followed by Isane and Hanataro. The Seventh Seat of Division Four tried to make him leave, urging him towards the door but he refused to the point of forgetting all family manners and ignored the young man. His eyes focused on the sight before him.

Unohana was pushing her reiatsu into Ichigo's prone body with a rhythmic motion, the pressure supposedly meant to restart the failing organ; at the same time Isane was pumping a concoction of fluids and solutions into him via the cannula in the back of his left hand.

The noble's mouth was dry and his heart thundered in panic, he watched as they fought to save his lover's life, again.

It had been three weeks since Aizen's defection; in that time Ichigo's physical injuries had healed well, better than expected in fact, apparently his Inner Hollow was at work, providing enough of a boost to his system to aid the process. But beyond that, he remained comatose. His reiatsu was dwindling more and more each day, to the very lowest Byakuya had ever sensed it to be. His body was healing, but his soul was failing.

As he heard pulsating bleeps from the heart monitor begin anew, he slumped against the wall and released a sigh of relief, one which was short lived as Unohana dismissed her healers, leaving only herself and Byakuya in the room.

“Kuchiki Taichou.” Her voice was far softer than he was used to, which made his stomach churn, “... Byakuya-san...”

“Yes?” He was gruff, he hadn't intended to be but his worry was beginning to show.

“There are only so many times I can revive him, if he does not wake soon... I fear he never will.” She reached out to touch his shoulder, but pulled it back as the noble flinched away from the contact, “I am truly sorry, not to have better news for you.”

“I understand. Please do what you can.” He dragged his gaze from hers, staring in the direction of the bed.

Swallowing down his hesitations, he moved back to Ichigo's side, he heard the door close again. He found himself to be alone. He sank down onto the edge of the mattress, leaning over and kissing Ichigo on the forehead. It hurt. The idea of never seeing him open his eyes again, it hurt. But he couldn't afford to fall apart in front of another Taichou, he could be temporarily removed from duty if that happened and frankly... His work was all that was keeping him going.

Gritting his teeth, he brushed Ichigo's cheek with the pad of his thumb, “I will be back soon, I need to make some arrangements... Sort some things out... Nothing serious, nothing for you to worry about just... Just don't stop fighting while I'm gone.” He whispered.

The noble left the hospital grounds, ignoring the looks and attempted conversations from medics and patients alike. He had no patience for any of them. He cast a glance over Seireitei as he headed back to his own Division. The smoke had finally stopped rising from Divisions Three, Five and Nine, though the damage would take some time to repair. Things seemed almost normal. He wasn't sure why, but that angered him. Everyone was getting on with their new reality, while he was stuck dealing with the outcome of the old one.

Turning on his heel, he started towards his office, pausing only when someone walked into him and stumbled to the floor; his gaze swivelled furiously until he saw a flash of red hair.

“Renji?” He frowned faintly, helping the man stand, “It is unlike you to be... Clumsy.”

His Fukutaichou kept his head down, mumbling an apology of sorts, “I wasn't concentrating.”

“It...” Byakuya paused and allowed his temper to dissipate as understanding rose in its place, “It's fine. Are you alright?”

“No.” Was the blunt reply, brown eyes lifted to reveal a tinge of pink around them, the result of crying, “Unohana Taichou... She... Sent me a message about Ichigo.”

“I see.” He faltered, “Has Rukia been informed as well?”

“I'm not sure, I was on my way to see her when... Well...” Renji sighed, “How are you coping, Taichou?”

“I am...” Byakuya trailed off, not sure he wanted to divulge his real feelings at that moment in time, “Trying to work out why he won't wake up.”

“I had been wondering that as well...” The redhead folded his arms, scowling at the floor.

The noble hesitated, “You have known him far longer than I have... Do you have any idea what would keep him from waking?”

“I'm not sure... I've known him since we were kids but even back then he wasn't like he is now...” He huffed, “He was always hard work... Never really wanted to make friends but Rukia and I... We weren't gonna leave him on his own.”

“A wise choice really.” He glared at nothing in particular, remembering what Ichigo had described his first few memories to consist of, he wondered if Renji knew. If Rukia knew. He decided that they probably didn't, he couldn't imagine Ichigo divulging that kind of information willingly.

“He never liked the idea of failing. Used to piss him off really badly. Didn't matter what it was, if he failed he'd be angry for ages. But then he'd come back, try again and smash it. It was like a pattern. He had to fail in order to get stronger.” The Fukutaichou rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, “I wonder...”

“What?”

“Well... He kept saying that what he wanted more than anything else was to protect you, and Rukia. But... I can't help but wonder if what he really wanted... What his heart and Soul wanted, was to prove he could stand on his own two feet, without Aizen's hand to guide him.”

Byakuya frowned faintly, “And... Even at the end of the battle... Aizen still had a hold over him, I couldn't hear what was said but...”

“Ichigo thanked Aizen.” Renji muttered.

“What?” He breathed, frown deepening, “Why?”

“Ichigo... Wanted to know if his family had suffered, the night they died. Aizen told him they didn't.” He shifted his weight awkwardly, “So, even after all the anger; conflict; adrenaline... Aizen still had a hand in his success.”

“Do you think...” Byakuya leaned against the nearby wall as he considered it, “Do you think Ichigo's subconscious is preventing him from waking up because of... Shame?”

“He has never been driven by his emotions until recently, everything is probably such a jumbled mess in his head and his heart that... I think it is more than possible. If I know him at all... I'd say his subconscious is beating him over the head right now, angry that he failed.”

Raising an eyebrow at just how astute Renji could be, he nodded slightly. He agreed. Even if it wasn't a conscious action, Ichigo was clearly punishing himself for something, whether it was what Renji had assumed or something else, it didn't matter.

“If what you say is true,” he began, and he was under no doubts that Renji was right, “We need to find a way to drag him out. By force if necessary.”

“Urahara-san would probably be able to help with that.”

“Urahara can't help from the World of the Living.” He dismissed the idea with a brief wave of his hand, sighing deeply.

“Except... Urahara-san _isn't in_ the World of the Living right now.” Renji smiled slightly.

Byakuya's eyes flashed and he was standing straight, “Are you... Do you mean to tell me _that man_ is in Soul Society?”

A definitive nod, “Yes, his exile was lifted this morning and he was given passage to travel here in case his expertise was required. Rukia is with him at the moment, she wanted to talk to him about... Well the entire Hōgyoku incident.”

“Can you take me there?” He asked.

“Yes, Taichou.”

* * *

The outskirts of Western Rukongai was mostly immersed in woodland, it was a far more pleasant looking forest than the one he had seen in Fugai, while those trees had been dark and crushing, these were light and twisted up towards the sunlight as if giving praise to each new day.

Within a small clearing, about half a mile into the forest, was their destination. A humble sized cottage with two floors and rickety fencing surrounding it. It was far from the majesty of the Kuchiki Estate, or the Shihōin Estate for that matter, but somehow it seemed to suit the new ideals of the pair who resided inside.

Without breaking his stride, Byakuya rapped curtly on the front door, waiting politely for it to be opened; his eyes immediately fell upon his former teacher, not having seen her since the fight on Sôkyoku Hill. She didn't seem overly surprised to see him.

“Is Urahara here?” He asked.

“Yes, I believe Rukia has finished emasculating him now, whether or not he'll be in any position to see you is another matter... Quite the ferocious streak she has.” The woman chuckled, “Come in, Little Byakuya.”

“It's... A lovely place you have here, Yoruichi-san.” Renji said nervously as he saw Byakuya's jaw clench at the nickname he loathed so much.

The purple haired woman smiled and slung her arm around the redhead's shoulders, “Thanks, Renji! It belonged to a strand of my family for about two hundred years, but it seems the most recent generations forgot about it, and left it unoccupied.”

“It's... Very pleasant.”

“She is bullshitting you, Renji. This place belongs to her, and she used to train me here. The only reason it is in such a state of disrepair is because we unlocked my Bankai here, quite by accident. I had forgotten about it however.” Byakuya sighed, nudging open various doors as he searched for Urahara.

“Oh.” The younger man glanced at Yoruichi and gulped as she winked suggestively at him and sauntered off after her former student.

The nobleman found his search ended at the kitchen, seeing Rukia and Urahara sat opposite each other at the table, eating fresh rice balls. His stomach growled silently in protest at the smell of food, not having eaten properly for some time. He ignored it however and turned his full attention to the man he had been looking for.

From the growing bruise on the blond man's jaw it appeared Rukia was every bit as vicious as Yoruichi had suggested. He felt a smug sense of pride at that. He found himself amused by the fact that Rukia had attacked him with her fists instead of Kidō. Perhaps Ichigo _did_ know her better.

“Byakuya-san, I didn't expect to see you all the way out here.” Urahara smiled, wiping his face with a cloth as he set his chopsticks to one side, “What can I do for you today?”

“Ichigo's Soul is failing, his body is struggling to maintain his life force and Unohana has specified that she cannot continue to revive him.” He stated, “I need a way to save him.”

“Straight down to business as always, I see...” The man breathed and stood slowly, plopping his hat on his head as he put his plate in the sink, “If his Soul is struggling as much as you suggest then there is very little that can be done to save him.”

“Don't give me that. I know you can find a way. You always do.” He argued sharply.

The scientist glanced around at him and let out a sigh, “I understand your attachment, but once the Soul begins to fail there are very few cases of it being able to repair itself again. I cannot help you.”

Byakuya glared at him, is fingers twitched towards his Zanpakutō but he resisted the urge to draw it, killing the man would get him nowhere. Nevertheless, he felt that same searing anger returning, anger he hadn't allowed himself to feel fully since childhood. He'd been well known for his reckless temper, short fuse and explosive outbursts. Yoruichi had faced more than a few of them in her time as his teacher. The way her keen feline eyes were trained on him, suggested she had not forgotten the telltale signals that he was close to losing control.

“In normal circumstances, I would agree. But you are as aware as I am that Ichigo is far from normal.” He growled, voice barely remaining even, “You have done far more extraordinary things in the past than what I am asking. So why are you refusing to help?”

“I have done many things, some good and some bad. Kurosaki-san is a unique case, as you rightly said. But there are outside forces controlling this as much as inside ones. No technique I have, no suggestion or idea, can correctly calculate the effect the Hōgyoku has had on him. Anything I might normally try in this situation is void. I cannot help you.” Urahara stated calmly.

The noble closed the gap between them, hand snatching out and gripping a tight fistful of the man's green overcoat, “So you won't even _try_? You are many things, Kisuke Urahara, but I never had you down as a _coward_!” He hissed.

“Aggression will not get you anywhere with this, Byakuya-san. Please release me.” The blond said coolly, patting the other's hand with a deceptively gentleness.

“Not until you agree to help!” He barked, fingers tightening.

“Is this about helping Kurosaki-san, or helping to repair your own dented pride?”

“What did you say?” Byakuya breathed.

“You swore you protect him, did you not? Swore that you would free him from Aizen's control. Swore you would put him back together again. And yet, he is lying in a hospital bed, close to death because you failed to uphold your oath.” Grey eyes narrowed, “So, I must ask again, is this about saving Kurosaki-san, or saving your pride?”

“You bastard.”

It looked for a moment like Byakuya was going to strike the man, but Urahara moved fluidly out of the way, gripping the noble's wrist and ducking under his grasp and pinching the joint firmly until the corresponding fingers loosened. He swivelled around behind the noble, gripping his wrist rather more firmly as he twisted his arm up behind his back, pinning him lithely against the nearest wall, apparently without so much as breaking a sweat.

Renji stared, mouth falling open as his Taichou was immobilised so quickly, and by a man who had been out of uniform for a long time. A quick glance towards the table showed that Rukia was less surprised, apparently familiar with Urahara's skills.

“Who trained Urahara-san?” The redhead asked Yoruichi as he turned his attention towards her.

“I did of course, he was my Third Seat long before he was my lover.”

“Lover?” He repeated with a squeak.

She let out a soft peel of laughter, “Yes, he is my lover. I have only ever trained three people in my lifetime, and they were the only people I felt were worthy of my tutorship. Urahara was the first, we grew up together after all, then came Little Byakuya, and finally Soi-Fon.”

“Huh... I thought some of her movements were familiar to Kuchiki Taichou's.” He murmured.

“Indeed, my three students learned everything I had to offer them, but over the years they adapted what they knew to better suit their own fighting styles. I have often wondered what it would look like if two of them fought... Being so similar but different at the same time.” She grinned mischievously, sweeping her long hair over her shoulder.

Renji nodded in agreement, “You all have that same... Fluidity. Like water, when you move.”

“Exactly!” She seemed happy with his analogy, “Only Soi-Fon can use Shunko though. Her reiatsu was the only one significantly similar to my own.”

“Figures. The lightning would probably interfere with Taichou's flowers.” He muttered.

Yoruichi laughed at that, “Can you imagine?!”

Urahara slowly released the noble, sensing his reiatsu had tempered somewhat, “Byakuya-san... You should know better than to attack out of anger. That behaviour will get you killed.”

“Giving my life to save his... Is the least I should be able to do.” He winced and rubbed his wrist slightly, glaring at Urahara.

“You feel that strongly?” The blond sighed, noting the nod he got in response. He turned his back on the raven haired noble, tapping his fingers against the tabletop for a long moment, “Very well. If you are truly willing to go to such lengths to bring him back from the precipice... Then, perhaps there is a way.”

“Kisuke!” Yoruichi snapped suddenly, all humour gone from her face, “I won't allow you to endanger his life with _that_.”

“It is his choice... Yoruichi-san.” The former Taichou peered over at his lover, expression solemn, “He is a grown man, not the boy you used to know. He has his own mind.”

“I said no!” Her fists were clenched at her sides.

“What is it?” Byakuya asked, looking between them, hope renewed in his eyes.

“I developed a new Kidō many years ago, to allow the merging of Souls. It permits one Soul entry into another, via their Inner World. It is likely, that at this current moment Kurosaki-san is stuck, trapped or lost within his own Inner World and requires assistance to get back out. I would be sending you in there to find him.” He explained, “However, if his body fails while you are inside his mind, or if you are defeated by his Inner World...”

“You both die.” Yoruichi hissed.

The blond nodded once at her words, “Which is why, initially, I was unwilling to even suggest it. However, you seem very determined...”

Byakuya tensed, swallowing hard at the implications of attempting something so dangerous, but he knew it was his only option, “I cannot sit back and allow him to die, he deserves better than that after everything he has been through. Please... Use your Kidō, Urahara-san, help me save him.”

“Understand the ramifications of this, Byakuya-san. If you die, what will become of your Clan, your Division?”

There was no hesitation when the noble answered, “The Kuchiki Clan will survive, true enough it will be hard to find a _suitable_ heir in my stead, but it is not impossible. And Renji would be a far better Taichou than I have been. I believe in him, and if I die, I will be content to do so, knowing only that I died trying to save someone who has come to mean more to me than I ever expected him to.”

“Taichou!” Renji exclaimed.

“Nii-sama!” Rukia said at the same time, neither of them looking happy with his declaration.

“Go to Division Four and inform Unohana Taichou of my plans, Byakuya-san. I will meet you there. Make sure you prepare yourself for anything you might face within his mind. Remember, above all else, he was Aizen's long before he was yours.” The blond man met his gaze, there was no playfulness there anymore.

“He doesn't belong to either of us. Ichigo isn't a possession.” The noble said bluntly, inclining his head respectfully before he swept out of the cottage, leaving without so much as a backwards glance at his Fukutaichou, or his sister.

Yoruichi bristled, shaking where she stood, “You can't do this Kisuke. You can't send him into that boy's Inner World!”

“He has made his peace, Yoruichi-san... It has to be his choice.”

“He will die in there!” She barked, stomping her foot hard on the floor as she glowered at him.

Urahara sighed softly and walked over to her, cupping her face in his hands gently, “You saw how he was... Do you believe he would survive the death of another person he has come to love? He barely coped with the grief of Hisana's death... Kurosaki-san's would destroy him.”

The former Taichou of Division Two clenched her teeth, “I need some air.” She pushed his hands away and stalked off out of sight.

“What... Was that about?” Rukia asked, sliding off her chair as she approached.

The blond man let out a long huff, taking his hat off to fiddle with the rim of it, “I first created this Kidō when her sister-in-law was attacked by Hollows and was almost killed. She was unconscious for six weeks before her Soul began to give out... So Yoruichi-san's brother went into her Inner World to reclaim her... But her Soul failed while they were entangled. They both died.”

“Yoruichi-san... Had a brother?” Renji swallowed.

“Yes, Yūshirō, he was younger than Yoruichi but every bit as kind and gifted. It was Yūshirō who first began developing Shunko, only to find that his reiatsu wasn't entirely right for it, so he taught Yoruichi-san how to use it and they found she was perfect for the technique...” He looked down, “Yoruichi-san... Took it very hard when her brother died. She almost died when she drank herself to oblivion and back, her brother was her entire world. There was nothing I could say or do, to console her loss. I felt like I was to blame for it.”

“She's clearly forgiven you though, you wouldn't still be together otherwise, right?” The redhead patted his shoulder gently.

“I wonder about that.” The blond smiled weakly, “I've loved that woman since I was ten years old, and I doubt I will ever stop. But... If Byakuya-san dies today I don't think there will be any way back for us.”

“This is Nii-sama we are talking about,” Rukia folded her arms and lifted her head, “Like he'd die doing something like this!”

“She's right, you know, he really is tenacious.” Renji mused.

“He prefers the term 'persistent' actually.” The smaller Shinigami smiled wistfully.

“I have a few things I have to set up before I can perform the Kidō. Please make your way to Division Four if you wish to wait there, I will be over soon.” Urahara murmured, setting his hat down on the counter, “I will not be long.”

* * *

Time seemed to move so much slower when he was actively waiting for something to happen, Byakuya paced Ichigo's room with a haphazard grace which was dissimilar to his usual elegance. The ticking of the clock on the wall was as aggravating as it was soothing, reminding him only of how he had to wait with some form of patience for Urahara to arrive.

Just when Byakuya was about to find out exactly what was taking so long, that the door to Ichigo's room opened. He looked around, unable to keep the desperation from seeping onto his face as he saw Unohana, Urahara and Yoruichi enter the space. He briefly saw Rukia and Renji sitting together in the waiting room, and he found himself glad that they had each other to rely on.

“I will be keeping Kurosaki-san as stable as I can while you do this, Kuchiki Taichou.” Unohana smiled weakly, clearly still uncomfortable with the plan he had relayed to her upon his arrival.

“My thanks.” He bowed his head and swallowed back his nerves, looking towards his former teacher and the man beside her, “You are sure you can do this, Urahara-san?”

“Yes.” The blond nodded, trying to ignore how tense Yoruichi was beside him, “Please settle yourself on the bed next to Kurosaki-san, as close as you are able, and make sure to rest your head against his.”

The noble hesitated for only a moment, and then he slid his arms out of his haori, passing it to Yoruichi to look after. He met her gaze for what felt like an hour, there were so many emotions swirling in those glimmering orbs.

He'd hated her for so long, despised her teaching method, her frivolous nature, her apparently lack of respect for her position in society. But the truth was far simpler. He didn't hate her at all, he envied her freedom, her ability not to care about how others perceived her.

“Yoruichi Shihōin.” He said softly, his tone taking her by surprise, “When I get back... I'd be honoured if you would join me for a game of tag.”

Her eyes widened slightly before a bright smile crept across her face, not quite hiding her anxiety but coming close, “It has been a while since I played against anyone of any real skill. You had best not underestimate me, Little Byakuya.”

“I would never do you the dishonour.” He offered her a smile, a real smile before he turned and climbed up onto the bed next to his sleeping strawberry, “You would likely find Ichigo an entertaining target for your games as well, he is almost faster than I am.”

“Well then,” she folded her arms around his haori, “You'd best bring him back to play then.”

Laying on his side, the noble couldn't resist inhaling Ichigo's unique scent, while muffled by the sterile stench of antiseptic, it was no less comforting. He allowed an arm to drape carefully over the younger man's waist, shuffling as close as he could as he dropped his head onto his shoulder, making sure their heads touched as Urahara had instructed.

The nervousness was growing now, even more so when he watched Urahara remove his green overcoat, revealing a small blade and cutting into his palm, drawing blood. The blond was focused, the blood acting as ink as he scrawled across his bared arms, countless squiggles and symbols coiling up to his elbows. The blond drew closer, hands outstretched as if reaching for something far out of his grasp.

“Ye lord! Mask of distance and space, all initiations, swell of hearts, ye who bears the name of Man! On the barrier of light, bind a twin lotus. In the depths of our hearts, hear the demands of the heavens. Bakudō 101: Māji!”

Brilliant green light leapt from his palms, illuminating the room in an almost blinding spark. As he lowered his arms, steam rising softly from the smudged markings on his skin, he winced as his knees buckled, being caught by the firm arms of his partner. He brought Yoruichi in close as she trembled, their eyes both falling towards the bed.

Byakuya had slumped, his expression slack as he drifted. It was up to him now.

“Good luck, Byakuya-san.” Urahara breathed before unconsciousness stole him away.


	22. Multi-levels of Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya awakens within Ichigo's Inner World, but nothing works quite how he expected it to. Trapped without help, and left to traverse the dangerous path alone, the Kuchiki heir must learn to understand the very depths of what makes Ichigo the person he is in order to move forward.

Byakuya groaned as he opened his eyes, his head was throbbing uncomfortably but his body felt light. Lifting his head from the pillows, he rubbed his eyes and glanced around. He was still in Ichigo's private room in Division Four, the colours and smells were the same but there was distinctively vibrant orange missing. He was alone.

Sliding carefully from the bed, he felt his stomach churn. He doubled over, retching as bile twanged against his taste buds. Everything felt slightly off. Just a little different. Was this truly Ichigo's Inner World? Or had something gone amiss with the Kidō?

Using the wall for support, Byakuya straightened, wincing as the light overhead seemed just a little too bright. Swallowing hard, gulping back the rare flash of nerves he felt tickling around the edges of his senses, the raven haired nobleman took a step forwards.

The world lurched, immediately rising up against him and thrusting him backwards. He crashed into the wall as the room seemed to roll, spinning around until he was clutching desperately onto the ceiling, head swirling with confusion as he tried to follow and understand the wild oscillation.

If this truly was Ichigo's Inner World, were these wild antics a side effect of his failing Soul?

Pushing himself back onto his feet, Byakuya stood cautiously, uncertain if the world would drop again when he moved. He took a step forwards, half expecting to plummet back down onto the floor and break a bone or two upon impact. However, when he found that he was able to walk without falling he grew in confidence and took a few more steps. He made it to the door without further incident and slipped outside into the waiting corridor he knew was beyond.

His knees struck a hard wooden floor without warning and Byakuya's eyes widened as he looked around. No longer in Division Four, he instead found himself on the outskirts of a comfortable looking living area. He could see every inch of the large, spacious room. Two comfortable couches sat either side of a coffee table, a huge bookshelf filled an entire alcove in the corner and the en-suite kitchen looked like any other he had seen. Perfectly normal.

Habitually brushing his uniform down as he rose, he squinted as the room shifted to accommodate a sudden surge of people within. Byakuya's eyes widened, striding further into the room as he watched Kūkaku Shiba saunter past him teasing her little brother Ganju. They looked younger than he recalled them appearing the last time he'd seen them.

Kūkaku's bright green-blue eyes were wide and full of excitement, messy black hair trailing down her back, barely contained by the bandages she wore like a crown. Both arms were intact, telling him that this was closer to twenty years ago, or somewhere close to that.

One of her arms was slung casually around Ganju's shoulders, he appeared little more than a teenager, eyebrows not nearly as bushy and form far thinner, not unhealthily but more taut and toned. He was spitting curses at his sister until she shoved him down onto one of the couches.

Glancing around as he heard a familiar voice, he felt his throat constrict at the sight of Kaien Shiba. He knew how much it had hurt Rukia to lose her mentor and friend, he had died only shortly after her graduation into Division Thirteen. Seeing him alive and well now was unexpected.

The former Fukutaichou of Division Thirteen was coming down the stairs with a wide grin on his face, carrying a young boy on his shoulders. The boy couldn't have been more than three or four, with a shock of orange hair and warm chestnut eyes.

Ichigo.

The noble couldn't help but let out a stuttered gasp at the sight of him. He was so young, so free and small, at peace with the world and everything around him. Happy. His fingers dug into Kaien's hair, tugging affectionately as he pointed excitedly at Miyako, Kaien's wife. He was handed over for the cuddle, small arms wrapping around her neck contentedly as he stuck his tongue out at Ganju.

 _'What is the meaning of all this?'_ Byakuya thought with a frown, _'I don't understand the relevance. How did Ichigo know the Shiba Clan? He was raised in the World of the Living... This doesn't look like the Shiba Estate, it looks like a normal house...'_

Pots and pans were knocked noisily together in the kitchen space, and Byakuya's eyes narrowed as they came to rest on a tall man with spiky black hair and a grazing of stubble who was standing lazily with an arm slung around the petite shoulders of a pretty young woman. She had a wave of spice coloured hair, her heart shaped face glowed with joy as her hands gently rubbed over the prominent bump barely hidden under her clothes. She was heavily pregnant, most likely the reason for the man's brilliantly proud grin.

He knew those faces. His expression dropping as he recalled the news article he'd found in Karakura town. These were Ichigo's parents. Isshin and Masaki. She must have been carrying his little sisters, Karin and Yuzu. They looked so happy, full of life and love and laughter. Content with their place in the world.

Swallowing, Byakuya felt a scratch of recognition in the back of his skull as he stared at the grin on dark haired man's face. Isshin Kurosaki. He was certain he'd seen that face before, younger and more serious. Lacking the stubble. It was a distant memory, hard to focus on as he watched the scene. It was strange to see nobility mingling with Humans, he couldn't work out why it was happening. How did Ichigo, how did his parents, know the Shiba Clan?

Time seemed to move faster as he thought about it, he watched as the group ate together and played games together on the coffee table. Poker mostly, but snap too at some point for Ichigo's entertainment. The chatter between them seemed almost familial, they were close.

It was only when Ichigo had been taken to bed and Masaki, Miyako and Ganju had retired that Kaien, Kūkaku and Isshin sat together around the coffee table. The atmosphere seemed to change and Isshin's carefree smile disappeared like springtime rain. He was serious, moody, on edge.

“Has there been news?” He asked, voice low.

“Nothing yet.” Kaien replied, sitting forwards with his elbows on his knees, “I expected something by now, anything and yet there's only silence. They all believe you to be dead, even now.”

Isshin rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes darkening, “And Aizen?”

Byakuya frowned, Isshin knew of Soul Society, knew about Aizen. Who was this man?

“He's still moving. Slowly, a little more cautiously since the incident with you but... Souls are still disappearing from Rukongai. The homeless, the poor, thugs... People who won't be missed. But... Some Shinigami too. Unseated, barely out of Shino.” The Fukutaichou sighed, dropping his head into his hands, “But without any solid evidence there's nothing I can do... Just keep watching... Waiting... Hoping he'll make a mistake.”

“I'm sorry you have to bear this burden Kaien.” The older man's expression turned regretful, “Had I been more careful...”

“It is my duty as Fukutaichou, and temporary Clan Head to do this duty in your place. You did everything you could while it was your responsibility to bear, let me carry the weight until Ichigo is ready.”

“Will he ever be ready?” Kūkaku asked, arm thrown over the back of the couch, “Raising him as a Human... Isshin is it really wise? How are you going to explain it to him when he's older? When he has no choice but to-”

“His reiatsu is already growing.” Kaien interrupted his younger sister, “I can sense it, he's strong. He'll only grow stronger as he ages. At the very least, this way he can grow up safely until he's old enough and strong enough to deal with what Seireitei will be like. What Aizen will be like.”

“I wish things didn't have to be this way,” Isshin folded his arms, frowning, “But Aizen forced my hand. I can't be sure if he believes I'm dead or if he's pretending. Either way, I can't allow my family to come to harm because of it.”

“And what about _this_ family?!” Kūkaku got to her feet sharply, “What about us? The Clan is falling apart without you Uncle, despite all Kaien's good deeds the Elders want more. They know he isn't the real heir, they can see it in his Clan tattoos.”

Byakuya let out a sharp breath, everything suddenly making sense all at once. Covering his mouth with his hand, the noble lowered his gaze, not entirely sure he could believe his ears. Was this true? Was this... Real? Was Ichigo...

“Of course he is.” The Kuchiki heir whispered to himself, “All along... I've known something was amiss. Why didn't I see it before? Sense it in his reiatsu? How couldn't I see how much he looks like Kaien.”

And Isshin, he knew why he seemed so familiar. He had met the Taichou of Division Ten only once as a child, at the behest of his grandfather. Isshin Shiba was as formidable as he was talented. But when had he changed his name? When had he left Soul Society? He faintly recalled hearing of his death, a Hollow attack, an ambush while on a mission in the World of the Living. But there had been no body to mourn or celebrate the life of. He had simply disappeared.

All along the answers were right under his nose. How had he been so blind? Ichigo was nobility. But he was more than that. He was the heir to the Shiba Clan. Kaien had been a placeholder, a temporary solution to the problem of Ichigo's age and Humanity. It sounded as if Aizen had a hand in the reason for Isshin's new identity. How long had that man been meddling with Ichigo's life?

Turning sharply, Byakuya decided he had lingered too long. He had to progress. He had to find the real Ichigo, had to get him out of his Inner World. There would be a time for answers later.

“Don't leave me.” The voice was small, innocent and Byakuya turned around slowly to meet wide brown eyes.

Ichigo was clinging onto his uniform, bottom lip protruding out moodily as he stared upwards, a soft whine escaping him.

Swallowing hard, Byakuya crouched down and rested his hand on the child form of his Third Seat, “I'm not leaving you, not really. I'm trying to find you.” He said gently.

“But I'm right here... You don't have to find me.” The child's pout grew more pronounced.

“I'm afraid I do have to find you. You see, you are in danger, and I need to help you. But this place is... Hard to navigate.” He kept his voice light, he didn't want to scare the boy, “I think... I need to get deeper, find the core of this world but... I don't know how. It's nothing like my Inner World.”

“Like a puzzle?” Ichigo tilted his head to the side cutely.

Byakuya was momentarily dazzled by the child's absolute innocence, he seemed so different to the Ichigo he knew. So unharmed, untouched. Pure and honest. Excited by everything and terrified of nothing. Knowing that his family's murder had twisted him so violently away from his beginnings was painful to see. He wondered how different Ichigo would be, if his life had progressed normally. Would he still be Human? Living in Karakura town with a wife or husband, maybe children of his own. Would he be a doctor? A lawyer? A bartender?

He couldn't imagine Ichigo as anything other than what he was. A soldier. A warrior. A fighter. But how different he might have been.

“I think it is exactly like a puzzle, yes.” He said finally, offering a smile to the child Ichigo, “Do you have any ideas of how I can win? I'm frightfully bad at puzzles.”

“I shouldn't really tell you... I'm not meant to...” The boy frowned, but it was momentary and his bright smile soon shone again, “I'll tell you anyway! It's like a big game. I love games, did you know?”

“I did not know that.” He whispered.

“I like feeling safe... Secure... I can't sleep with the light off or I have nightmares. But mum is always there to keep me safe! A hug, a kiss, a story. She never minds how many times I wake her. Being safe... It's like being wrapped up in lots of blankets!”

“Like a cocoon.” Byakuya said.

“Exactly!” Ichigo beamed, clapping his hands together happily.

“Layers of protection... Keeping safe what is at the heart.” The Kuchiki heir was beginning to understand, “Peel back the layers and eventually I will reach the core.”

“Wow you're smart Mister.” The child's eyes were big and surprised.

“I couldn't have worked it out without your help, thank you Ichigo.” He brushed his fingers through the far less wild locks of orange hair the child sported, smiling faintly, “I have to go now. I need to start peeling back those layers.”

“Okay! Bye Mister!”

“I'll see you soon, Ichigo.” He promised quietly as he watched the younger version of his Third Seat fade from sight like a ghost, along with the scene of Kaien, Kūkaku and Isshin.

Surrounded in darkness, Byakuya felt a swell of pity at the thought that Ichigo most likely had no idea of his true heritage. He likely couldn't remember Kūkaku, Kaien or Ganju. He had been so young. He had no idea how special he was. Or how much he had been loved. Aizen had a lot to answer for.

Flinching at the surge of anger he felt at the thought, Byakuya clenched his fists, heart aching. Ichigo could have lived a normal life. He could have had everything he wanted. Instead that man had burst in uninvited and ruined it all with no right to do so. It was cruel. Cold. Just like Aizen himself.

The ground gave out beneath his feet with no warning, plunging him into the blackness. He let out a cry of surprise, but screaming was beneath him. He had to trust that he wouldn't come to harm by merely peeling back the layers of Ichigo's defences. He had to trust in Ichigo.

He landed on his back, the impact knocked the breath from his lungs but he recovered quickly, staring up at the bright blue sky now overhead. He sat up carefully, the Kurosaki residence was long gone, and instead he found himself in an open field. The grass was growing tall, easily up to his waist. The pollen made his nose itch.

Padding through the grass, he allowed his fingers to stretch out, brushing against the stems as he passed them. His eyes were keen and he could tell there was a patch of grass not too far ahead which had been flattened. He aimed for that spot, hoping to find some clue to help his progression.

A frown formed on his face as he came to see two people laid back on a blanket, there was a hamper of food and wine holding down one corner. One of the people was easily recognisable, with dark brown hair which was mostly swept back off his face, except for a disobedient strand which hung between his eyes. Aizen.

The other was... Well, sunset shades of hair made Ichigo easy to recognise. Byakuya's insides twisted into knots as he watched the brunet lean down and placate the strawberry with a passionate kiss. The action drew a reluctant growl from the nobleman and he found himself unable to halt his movements. Pushing aside the last tufts of grass as he entered the clearing, the sound drawing the attention of both men.

Ichigo's face was beetroot red as he almost seemed to spring away from Aizen, “Kuchiki Taichou! W-What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.” It wasn't a lie, “What are you doing with Aizen?”

The strawberry spluttered for a moment, arms folding indignantly over his chest, “I am spending the day with my lover. What's so surprising about that?”

“Your lover?” He repeated in disbelief, “Ichigo...”

“Kuchiki Taichou if you have no business here might I suggest you leave us to enjoy ourselves in peace.” Aizen's voice was a perfect mimic of the real thing, “This isn't a spectators sport.”

Watching as Aizen's arms slid around the younger man, it was like watching a small animal drawn into a snake's nest. Ichigo looked uncomfortable, but whether that was because of Aizen or the intrusion Byakuya wasn't sure.

“Ichigo, please try to think. Try to remember. Aizen betrayed Soul Society. Betrayed you. He's dangerous. This isn't you. This isn't what you wanted.” The nobleman's voice was even despite the chaos in his heart, “Try to remember what you stand for.”

“Ignore him Ichi,” Aizen's eyes were narrowed as he scowled at the Shinigami, “He's just jealous. He knows he can never understand you the way I do. Forget about him. He's irrelevant.”

“W-What... What are you talking about?” The strawberry frowned in clear confusion, eyes flicking between the two men.

The raven haired man took a sharp step forwards, hands shaking at his sides, “This is a trick, Ichigo. It's not real. You must break free. Remember your truth. Remember your resolve.”

“Shut up... Both of you...” Ichigo flinched, pulling away from Aizen.

“Ichi... You don't need to fret. He's just trying to cause trouble.”

The strawberry got to his feet, but just as he backed away from Aizen he was also backing away from Byakuya, “Stop talking. I... I'm confused...”

Licking his lips, Byakuya tried to soften his expression, “You saved Rukia... She survived because of _you_. I survived because of _you_. You won. You don't need to hide anymore.”

Aizen was on his feet, anger flashing in his eyes, “Stop trying to steal him from me, he knows where he truly belongs. Who truly matters. Your meddling has gone on long enough Kuchiki. Enough.”

“He isn't a possession you can tuck in your pocket for your own entertainment Aizen.” He growled.

“He is mine.” Was the simple reply.

“I am _not_ yours.” Ichigo's tone was livid as he stared at Aizen's back, “I'm not an object you show ownership of! I'm a living, breathing person! You don't own me!”

“I made you!” Aizen snapped.

Realisation seemed to cross the strawberry's face and his lips parted in surprise, “No... No you didn't... You destroyed me. Destroyed my family. My life. Took ownership when you had no right. You ruined me! Who do you think you are?!”

The scene distorted as Ichigo seemed to remember himself, Aizen's form contorting and fading as if defeated. The strawberry stared at the empty space in disbelief, shoulders slumping.

“Ichigo?” Byakuya tilted his head cautiously.

“You shouldn't be here.” The young man muttered, “It's dangerous.”

“Of course I'm here. I'm here to help you.”

“I know, I remember you saying... No... You didn't say that to me... That was...” Ichigo's brow furrowed.

Feeling a rush of disappointment, Byakuya realised that this wasn't the real Ichigo. Just like the child form, it was another layer, another puzzle, another game. Despite looking and sounding more like the beautiful creature he knew, it wasn't him. He needed information.

“Does part of Ichigo's Soul still desire Sōsuke Aizen? Is that the shame which chains him here?” He asked.

Sighing softly, the Ichigo that wasn't entirely Ichigo shrugged, “In part, I don't think that desire will ever leave us entirely. We were dependant on him for so long... But in truth what we desire the most is to be needed. Aizen wanted us for our strength, our potential, our deviance and provided us with a purpose. Something to fuel our life in the wake of emotionless mediocrity. That purpose is gone now... No one needs us... We are a monster...”

The way this fake Ichigo spoke was confusing. Why did he say 'we' and 'us' instead of 'I'? Why did it sound like there was more than one of them? Shaking his head, Byakuya couldn't bare to hear the way he spoke, whether confusing or not, it was heartbreaking to hear such defeat.

“That's not true!” He exclaimed, taking a step forwards, “That couldn't be less true! You are needed! By Rukia, and Renji... Your friends... By... By me... You're not a monster, you've never been a monster... You can't truly think that...”

Chestnut eyes softened as they met steel, “It's kind of you to say so but... I know the truth.”

“You do... But Ichigo doesn't?” He asked.

He had an inkling. A small lingering thought that scratched at his skull like a nagging warning. After all, Ichigo wasn't the only person living inside his Soul, was he?

“Of course not. How could he, it would break him. I can't let it break him... Can't let it...” The not-Ichigo began pacing, “It would hurt him too badly to realise the truth... To know how much of a monster he was... The reason Aizen wanted him... His potential...”

“He's not a monster.” Byakuya said again.

Warm eyes began to grow cold as they bore into his skull, “You don't know of what you speak.”

The Division Six Taichou tensed, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat as the not-Ichigo stalked towards him, brown turned gold. Glittering, beautiful, dangerous. White turned black. Byakuya felt a sweat break out across his skin and he took a step back without meaning to.

“You want to know us? I'll show you _**us**_.” The not-Ichigo with golden eyes lashed out suddenly, palms smacking into Byakuya's chest, throwing him backwards with a strength he'd never have expected.

The world shifted around him, flipping and twisted, winding and flowing, altering and blending in a mesh he couldn't make out. Byakuya was sure he vomited at some point during the exchange, his stomach releasing musky tastes of bile and acid, the tang scorching his tongue.

He slammed against a wall, bouncing off it with the force and instead found himself in the awkward position of being at the feet of none other than Sōsuke Aizen himself.

“ _Shit_.” He breathed.


	23. The Truth Hurts: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey into Ichigo's Inner World is going far from smoothly, and things only seem more dire when Byakuya bares witness to the event which changed the course of Ichigo's life forever. And yet, just as things seem to be at their very worst the Kuchiki heir finds an unlikely ally.

“You will not touch my son!” Isshin moved, putting himself between where Aizen was stood and where his wife and son were.

“I shouldn't be surprised really...” Aizen murmured, “It seems perfectly reasonable that any child of yours would be immensely powerful, especially given your choice of wife.”

“Get out of my house!” The former Taichou barked.

Byakuya panted sharply, finding himself in the middle of the conflict, he quickly scuttled away from Aizen's feet, movements jerky and a little out of sorts as he came to terms with the plunge he'd been thrown into. His head was still throbbing from all the movements and colours, his stomach aching, willing him to be sick again. Steel eyes moved towards the small boy, now around the age of ten if his height was anything to go by.

Ichigo was clinging to his mother's side, his gaze drawn as his two little sisters stumbled into the room, clearly curious about what was going on. Shouting was such a rare occurrence in the house.

Aizen's eyes followed and a calculating smile appeared on his face, “Huh, not one but three? You have been busy.”

“GET OUT!”

“No.” It was a simple answer for sure, but it held all the pressure of a tsunami behind it.

Hand emerging from his pocket, Aizen held up a small spherical ball of glimmering, swirling light. Apparently a reflex, Masaki grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him towards her, forcing him behind her body despite his struggling yells and refusals.

Spears of illumination shot out suddenly in all directions, cutting through furniture and walls like they were nothing; Ichigo let out a yell as he watched one shoot straight towards his mother and he flung himself forwards, putting his own body in the way to protect her. He seemed to arch, bend and wobble as it struck him in the chest.

Byakuya watched in horror as the child hit the floor like a dead weight, writhing and thrashing while strangled, gargled noises of pain escaped his aghast mouth.

“Ichigo!” Isshin's voice was frantic as he rolled his son onto his back, recoiling in horror at the sight of glistening gold irises staring back at him, “W-What... What... What have you done? What have you done to my son?! AIZEN!”

The brunet seemed surprised, staring a the orb in his palm, “How unexpected.” Was his only comment before he was silenced by the explosion of reiatsu that seemed to cripple the boy on the floor.

An ear piercing scream was torn from Ichigo's lips, growing louder and more shrill as his skin paled, his own reiatsu was crushing him, killing him. Piling on top of him like a mountain, or an ocean.

The Kuchiki heir covered his mouth with his hand as he watched thick white foam leaking from Ichigo's nose and mouth, the boy's body arching off the floor at an impossible angle as his face was encapsulated in the fast hardening bone structure. His face was soon concealed completely by the pale mask, hornless but no less terrifying than Byakuya remembered. Plain red markings brushed the left side of the Hollow mask like a tribal pattern.

Aizen's eyes were dancing with pride at this accidental miracle, “Fascinating. Truly fascinating.”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Isshin roared, his hands shaking as they barely touched Ichigo's thrashing shoulders.

Aizen wasn't listening, his head was tilted to one side, calculating, planning, likely running through a hundred different scenarios, “Child... Attack.”

Ichigo's body seemed to stiffen at the sound of his voice, bone covered face turning towards the source, head tilted like a puppy being given it's first lesson. A small sound of confusion escaped the mouth piece of the mask.

“I want you to attack.” The brunet said again.

“Ichigo?” Isshin breathed, his voice breaking at the sight of what his son had become, “S-Son... Can you hear me?”

“Ichi?” Masaki was crying, she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her eldest child, embracing him tightly in the crippling hope that she could bring him back.

Byakuya barely realised that he had screamed as blood sprayed the room, his expression wide and horrified, paling as he watched talons cleaving through flesh and bone. There was no feeling. No recognition. Masaki fell to the ground first, Ichigo's fingers digging into her body like a wild animal, ripping and shredding before his attention was drawn by the sound of clinking metal.

Isshin had stripped his Gigai, Shinigami form drawing his Zanpakutō regretfully. Ichigo was fast. Faster than he should have been, he was a new born Hollow, he should have been sluggish, fragile, easy prey for a seasoned Taichou. And yet he was able to side step the Zanpakutō with ease, batting it aside with his bare hand as he lunged at his father.

Clawing. Gouging. Biting. Bending. Twisting. He didn't just mangle his father's Shinigami form, he mangled his Gigai too. He threw his victim to the floor and continued his insane rampage, attention drawn by the sound of screaming coming from the dining table. Karin and Yuzu were cowering together, the darker haired girl tried to protect her twin.

Ichigo's head moved left and right, assessing their threat level. But the hungry growl which escaped him suggested it no longer mattered at all. They weren't spared. By the time he had finished with them, they were unrecognisable. Almost in pieces.

Turning to glare across the room at Aizen, Ichigo pounced towards the man, the grating teeth of the mask ripping open as the Hollowfied child released a high pitched roar. But the moment he came within arms reach of the brunet, he calmed. Freezing like a stone statue, sitting down amidst the chaos with wide eyes.

“My goodness... You are perfection.” Aizen's voice was quiet, the most tender Byakuya had ever heard it, “Such a surprise, and yet a pleasant one. You're strong, very strong. But there's room for growth. Rest now, there will come a time for you to rise up again but it is not now. I'll be patient, I can wait.”

The brunet stepped back, watching as the Hollow mask seemed to crack on command. Thousands of tiny fragments of bone scattered among the blood and the gore. Ichigo slumped, fingers finding Masaki's cardigan as his eyes fluttered open. He was quiet, despite the drench of crimson covering him from head to toe, even now dripping down his face from his tufts of soaked hair. The peace was momentary, shattered in an instant as his mind seemed to reawaken and he screamed.

Byakuya's heart thundered in his chest, his hands were shaking at his side and he took a step back, his every instinct roared at him to run over and wrap his arms around Ichigo and tell him that everything would be alright. But Aizen got there first. Like he always did. And just like that, Ichigo was spirited away. Byakuya knew now, from his talks with Ichigo that Aizen had taken him to Soul Society. His Human body converted into reishi so that he could remain the firmly within Sōsuke Aizen's web.

It was no wonder Ichigo couldn't remember that night properly. If he ever regained those memories they would break him.

“I remember.”

Byakuya flinched at the sudden rippling voice from beside him, eyes widening as he found himself looking at Ichigo. Except... It wasn't Ichigo. Fully grown yes, tall and proud yes, but... Bleached white from head to toe. His hair, his skin, his shihakusho. His sclera were black, irises golden. He was staring at the scene of carnage with a downturned expression, there was torment there. Regret.

“What... Do you mean?” He asked, forcing his voice to remain steady.

“I remember that night. I remember so much clearer than King does.” The same watery, silvery voice escaped from between pale lips, revealing the point of his tongue as it flashed across his teeth, “He only remembers the blood and the bodies. Nothin' of the event. He nearly did... When he was trapped in Aizen-sama's quarters... He forced himself to remember, drove himself with the pain just like he was trained to... It was a close call, if I hadn't... Taken over a little he'd have seen it all... Fuckin' idiot. My King.”

“This...” Byakuya gestured around the room, “This is why he lost his memories?”

“Yeah. His mind would never have coped with the truth, so I stole it from him, locked it away so far inside his head that he'd never find it. It... It was the only thing I could do to protect him from himself. But... It left him so isolated... He couldn't remember if he even had a family, he couldn't remember how to feel... I-I only wanted to protect him but I ended up takin' too much.” The albino Ichigo's eyes flicked to Byakuya's face.

“Who are you?”

“I caused this.” He snorted, nodding at the ghastly scene, “I am the power that Aizen-sama gave him... The power that corrupted him... I am his Hollow.”

The raven haired man frowned, sensing grief in his voice, “You sound sad.”

The Hollow walked into the room, slowly and carefully until he was stood beside Masaki, he crouched down and swept some of her hair away from her face, “I'm the reason his life went to shit. I murdered the most important person in his life... The centre of his fuckin' world. All because my master asked it of me.”

“Aizen is not your master.”

“He created me! Gave me life! Gave me meanin'! He gave me power! Compared to him... I'm just a dog and he's holdin' the leash. I can't refuse anythin' he asks of me for long... No matter how much I try to... His voice... His presence is too much, too strong, too definite.” The Hollow barked.

Watching the mood swing, Byakuya resided himself to be cautious not to make it worse, he took a careful step forwards and rested a hand on the albino's shoulder, “You almost sound like you love him.”

“I do.” It was simple, reluctant, there was a pitiful undertone, “I hate myself for it. It's my affection for Aizen-sama that makes King so torn about him. He can't tell the difference between his feelin's and mine. I've always hungered for King's power, hungered to be the one in control... To the detriment of our life sometimes...”

“None of this is your fault.”

“H-How can ya say that? Ya saw what I can do. Ya saw what King and I become... How can ya still care?” The albino frowned, staring at him as if trying to work out a puzzle.

“I love him.” Byakuya breathed without a second thought.

He hadn't realised it at first. Yes, there had always been some kind of secret affection for Ichigo, from the moment that bundle of orange disobedience had stormed into his office with Renji at his side and made sure Rukia was looked after properly, he'd wanted Ichigo to join Division Six. They'd discussed it before. He wanted to help his growth but he also wanted the excuse of getting to know him better.

Aizen had gotten there first. Aizen always seemed to get there first. Always.

So he had buried his feelings. It have never stopped him noting how attractive Ichigo had grown to be after graduating from Shino, it hadn't stopped him sneaking stolen glances and wishing for more. But he'd been professional. Too professional.

But that moment Ichigo had protected him in Karakura town he had known the truth. Seeing his potential, only to see him so badly hurt he could lose him altogether. The reason he had been so hurt by Ichigo's betrayal of Soul Society was because he loved him. It was the very reason he'd laid his life on the line to try and save him. He had to see the good in him. Even if no one else did.

“And what of me? King and I can never be separated, we're one. Can ya accept me, as ya accepted him?”

The nobleman jolted at the Hollow's words, startled from his trip down memory lane. He stared for a long moment, could he? Could he accept the Hollow despite everything he'd done, everything he could do? As long as he was loyal to Aizen he would be a constant threat to Ichigo's progress. And yet that wasn't the Hollow's fault.

“You could have killed me in Fugai. You could have turned on me or Renji on Sôkyoku Hill. But you didn't. You stopped yourself. Or you allowed Ichigo to stop you. Why?”

“We... My emotions effect him. My feelin's effect him.” The albino frowned deeply, pacing in small steps, “But the... The connection works both ways... His emotions, his feelin's... They effect me too... He loves ya.”

“Does that mean you share his feelings towards me?” Byakuya asked.

“They ain't as strong, don't rule my head like they rule his but I can feel it. It's warm. Fuzzy. Sickenin' really.” He grinned mischievously, “But I'm dangerous, I'm the most pure version of his instincts... None of ya are safe with me around.”

“I am a Taichou, my life is rarely safe. If I desired safety I would never have begun investigating Aizen's treachery.” He shrugged slightly, “Regardless, Hollow, I do not fear you. If you and Ichigo are truly one and the same then... How could I care for one of you without doing so for the other? I just want to help him. And you.”

The Hollow stared at him, seeming surprised before he swallowed and looked away, snorting, “Fuckin' hell. King sure does pick 'em.”

“Is that a compliment?” His lips twitched towards a smirk.

“T-Take it how ya want, ya smug prick.” He spluttered, but his expression turned upwards into something reflecting the manic smile Byakuya had come to recognise whenever the Hollow took over Ichigo for any length of time, “Aizen-sama never named me... But... Over the years I named myself. Ya can call me Shiro.”

The Kuchiki heir bowed his head politely, “Well then, it is a pleasure to meet you Shiro. I am Byakuya Kuchiki.”

“Nice to meet ya too.”

They had barely finished their formal introduction when the world shifted, the nightmare scene of the Kurosaki house disappearing, being replaced by the familiar sight of the Division Six training grounds. He groaned, staggering briefly while he adjusted to the new location, he wished he could settle in one place and be done with it.

The only relief he found was when he saw Shiro sprawled on the floor beside him, apparently perplexed about having been brought with him. Byakuya turned, and politely offered a hand to help the Hollow to his feet, offering a small smile before he assessed the new situation.

The clashing sound of swords drew his attention and he noticed two figures fighting within the smaller of the training rings. Flashes of red hair and pink blossoms made his eyebrows raise slightly, recognising his Fukutaichou and himself.

His own expression was as cold as ice, but twice as bitter. Movements ruthless, cutting, he wasn't training Renji because he saw potential in him, he was doing it because he had no choice. It was his duty to train his Fukutaichou. Renji's face was flushed, beads of sweat rolled down his brow. His eyes were narrowed with anger.

That look of loathing. Byakuya remembered it clearly. He had been vile to Renji, treated him like something he had trodden in, something foul and unpleasant. He'd treated him like vermin for no reason other than his common blood, fiery temper and his affection for Rukia. When Renji had joined Division Six as his Fukutaichou, having passed through Five and Eleven, it had been a bad time. And it had been all his fault, his treatment towards the redhead had been worse than appalling, it had been cold; calculating and cruel.

He had enjoyed treating him as if he was worth nothing. He had enjoyed humiliating him publicly in front of their subordinates, he had enjoyed belittling him and making sure the redhead never forgot that he had lost Rukia.

Swallowing, Byakuya realised he wasn't even sure why he had enjoyed hurting him so much, but he knew he regretted it. He regretted it so very much.

With a frown, the raven haired Shinigami found himself wondering if he had ever apologised. Had he ever apologised? Yes, they'd moved past it, found a way to communicate. He had come to respect the redhead, his fire and his wilfulness. But had he ever, ever said sorry?

Was this something Ichigo thought of often? He was sure the strawberry knew every inch of his treatment towards Renji. Was this a test? Did he have to acknowledge his past wrongs to progress further into Ichigo's Inner World? Was there some puzzle or clue he had to complete?

“Ya know, between the two of ya I really thought ya were the more emotionally stable one, I'm startin' to have doubts though. Ya get caught up just as deeply in ya own head as King does.” Shiro's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade.

“My apologies, I allowed my mind to wander. How do we progress from here? Surely you know the way to the heart of Ichigo's Inner World?” He glanced at the albino.

“Yeah, I know the way, gettin' there is another matter though. Ichigo's shut down, there ain't a way in that I know of.” The Hollow shrugged, “Ya were an asshole to the pineapple right?”

Frowning faintly, the noble quickly realised the pineapple was meant to be Renji and he sighed, “Yes, I was. What of it?”

“Well, I think he wants pay back.” A long pale finger pointed towards the ring.

Byakuya's eyes snapped around, widening sharply as he watched the extending blade of Zabimaru flying towards him. His fingers darted to his side, ready to draw Senbonzakura to defend himself but clutched at thin air. For the first time, he realised his Zanpakutō wasn't with him.

Lunging to the side, he heard the impact of the blade against the concrete and winced as he was showered with debris. Rolling and bouncing out of the way of subsequent attacks, he couldn't help but notice his own double had disappeared. Was this the test? Did he have to defeat Renji? It would be no issue with Senbonzakura at his side, and while he was sure he could defeat him with Kidō alone it would be more-

Blood splashed his face and he staggered, vision blurring for a split second as his brain caught up with his body's reaction. One of the jagged segments of Zabimaru was buried in his shoulder. Gasping through the pain, steel eyes flashed up to meet burning brown ones. In all their sessions together, Renji had never landed a solid hit on him. But this wasn't Renji. It merely wore his face. This was a protective barrier between himself and Ichigo. It would have whatever strength it needed to defend its host, and repel intruders.

“It appears you have me at a small disadvantage.” He breathed, tearing the blade free from his skin.

“Only a small one?” The false Renji smirked at him, withdrawing the extending blade with a flick of his wrist, hefting the sword over his shoulder, “Good to see the famous Kuchiki arrogance is just as prominent in here as it is in the real world.”

Tutting, Byakuya lifted a hand, “Bakudō 9: Hōrin!” Using his index and middle fingers, he fired a tendril of orange hued energy. The Kidō spiralled in vast yellow patterns, ensnaring the redhead within it's web. He watched smugly as his foe was immobilised.

“Huh, pretty good.” Shiro murmured as he came to stand beside him, checking the wound on his shoulder carefully, “It's kinda pathetic really... I mean this is meant to protect King... Come on.”

“I won't be lectured by an underdog like you.” Renji's voice snarled, saliva spraying the sand.

“Underdog?!” The Hollow snapped.

Byakuya felt a surge in Renji's reiatsu, his eyes widening as it momentarily became visible in deep shades of scarlet. He felt his breath stutter, chest tightening as he realised what was happening. But how was it possible? Renji had never said... Never suggested... But of course Ichigo would know, Ichigo would even in his period of emotionless apathy had been closer to Renji than anyone else. He, Byakuya Kuchiki, had been blind.

“BANKAI!” Renji roared, fingers clenched around the hilt of his Zanpakutō.


	24. Riddle Me This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Renji's Bankai unleashed, Byakuya is forced to use desperate tactics to try to survive their encounter. Thankfully, Shiro proves far more useful than simply being a guide.

Byakuya's instincts roared into life as he grabbed the hand of his Hollow companion, shooting them backwards in a burst of Shunpo as the training ground detonated. Keeping his eyes peeled despite the shards of fence and floor scattered in his direction, the Division Six Taichou bit his tongue, scanning the arena for signs of what to expect.

He could feel Renji's reiatsu shifting, twisting and turning behind the smoke and dust. It was strong, stronger than he'd ever felt it. He wasn't sure if it reflected Renji's growth in the outside world too, but if it did then he truly needed to beg forgiveness for being blind to his own Fukutaichou's progression.

Bankai. If it was true... If Renji really had unlocked Bankai... He would be the first of his year to have done so. Ichigo was close, but had Renji really beaten him to it in secret?

“What are ya doin'?! Fuckin' attack!” Shiro's voice was curt in his ear.

“I don't require your advice on how to do battle.” He snapped sharply, lifting his hands, “Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! On the wall of blue flame, inscribe a twin lotus. In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens! Hado 73: Sōren Sōkatsui!”

A violent blast of brilliant blue energy erupted from his palms, streaking through the air with devastating effect. It ripped through the debris like it was nothing and for the briefest of moments Byakuya caught sight of his opponent.

A hugely magnified version of his Shikai, Renji's Bankai was enormous. Resembling the skeleton of a snake, Zabimaru had gained many more, much larger separating segments resembling a vertebral column with sharp pick protrusions. A serpentine skull rose at the head of the beast with crimson fur erupting around the base. With an ape fur cowl around his shoulders Renji cut an imposing figure.

How had he been so blind?

“Oh he's fuckin' huge.” Shiro breathed, grin twisting tighter, “I don't think pretty spells are gonna get ya far.”

“I have no other options.” He muttered, “Senbonzakura is not at my side.”

“Well of course it ain't. This is King's world, not yours.” The Hollow raised his eyebrows and sighed in a moody manner, rolling his eyes, “Ugh I guess it can't be helped. Don't fuckin' drop me.”

Byakuya frowned in confusion at his words, flinching as he was momentarily blinded by a flash of white light. He threw a hand up to shield his face, lowering them only when the light had lessened. He found himself staring at Zangetsu, the blade was sticking out of the ground and didn't look entirely as he remembered it. It seemed the colours had inverted, where black usually sat white now bleached it clean and where white had formerly belonged he now saw black.

Shiro's warning now made sense and as he sensed movement heading in their direction, the raven haired Taichou darted forwards, tearing the huge blade free as he narrowly dodged the crushing weight of Renji's Bankai. He twisted on his heel, slicing at the spinal column with a heft swing, eyes narrowing as he simply cut through the vibrant reiatsu used to hold the creature together.

It was hard to wield Zangetsu. It was so much larger than Senbonzakura, and he was not attuned to the blade like he was with his own Zanpakutō. Each heft and cleave made his back muscles spasm with effort. Each lift and slam made his arms quake with the force it took to move the impressive sized sword. The fact that Ichigo had managed to attune himself to such a beast spoke volumes about his natural ability.

He ducked beneath another vicious swing of Zabimaru, hissing as a protrusion snagged his back and sent him flying. He almost dropped Zangetsu, but remembering the Hollow's words he just about managed to hold on. He danced around the arena, diving aside and avoiding the worst of the attacks. Even with his superior Shunpo he wasn't able to penetrate Renji's defence with any ease. Every time he grew close enough to act he was almost snatched away by the maw of the snake.

He found himself really wishing he had Senbonzakura at his side, as powerful as Zangetsu was he longed for his nimble petals.

“ _ **Tch, ya don't need that prima donna pussy to win. Ya got somethin' far more valuable right now.”**_

Byakuya bristled at the insult to his Zanpakutō but resisted the urge to comment, or rather was prevented from making the rebuke as his body went rigid. He almost allowed the sword to slide through his fingers again, but his grip tightened instinctively. His body stiffened, back arching as he released a startled moan of discomfort.

He could feel something welling inside, something bubbling, boiling, rising, coiling. It was like an infection tainting his insides. He could see Renji stalking towards him like an animal. The desire to kill prominent in his features.

Unexpected darkness swallowed him, squeezing and suffocating him as the feeling of hands wrapping around his own brought a flittering moment of warmth to his skin. His arms lifted into the air, holding Zangetsu high above his head. He wasn't moving them, someone else was.

“ _ **Trust me.”**_

Byakuya saw Renji freeze, his expression changing into something like panic, fear even. He couldn't work out why until he watched sea blue reiatsu winding around the huge blade over head, winding tighter and tighter, growing crisper and sharper. He knew this feeling. He'd seen it. In Karakura town.

“Getsuga Tenshou!” His lips moved but it wasn't his voice which escaped, it was cold, watery, dark and in an instant his arms were brought down sharply, the eruption of reiatsu released was cataclysmic.

He was thrown off his feet and crashed to the floor, sliding across the ground until he hit a wall. Zangetsu clattered from his grasp and he released a choked gargle.

He felt strong arms wrap around him, his head cradled in someone's lap. He barely had the energy to lift his head, let along open his eyes but curiosity drew him back from the brink of unconsciousness, and he found himself looking up at Ichigo's Hollow.

“I said don't fuckin' drop me.”

“What... What did you do to me?” He asked, voice cracking.

Shiro, for what it might have been worth, looked remorseful, “Shit, I didn't think it would take this much outta ya. I'm sorry...”

“That was Ichigo's technique... The one he used... One the Arrancar in Karakura. How did you... How did I...” He winced at how pathetic he sounded.

“I'm a facet of his power same as the Old Man... I can use their techniques too... I figured... Pineapple wouldn't expect you to do it. So I... Possessed ya a little bit.” Shiro looked uncomfortable, “I didn't expect it to tire ya this much... King's got a deeper well of reiatsu to draw from I guess...”

“I'll be fine.” He muttered, forcing himself to sit up. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, feeling his strength returning, “You're powerful.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“I appreciate your aid, just... Warn me next time.” Byakuya offered a small smile and got to his feet, wincing as his shoulders creaked from the effort.

Turning on the spot as he heard something in the distance, Byakuya was surprised to feel Shiro's fingers curl around his wrist without explanation, although the moment their skin made contact the world lurched around them and the ground opened beneath their feet dropping them into the chasm below.

They twisted and warped as they fell, flittering images passing their gazes, distant memories belonging to the strawberry they were searching for. Byakuya recognised some of them, seeing himself in them, but others were completely foreign to him; he could see Aizen in some of them, Gin and Tōsen in others. Some of them he had to turn away from, not wanting to know what happened in the depths of those moments, amidst the flashes of bare flesh and shifting bedsheets.

The pair crashed to a stone floor, Shiro landed on top of Byakuya, rousing a grunt from the noble as his ribs were crushed under his pressure. The Hollow grumbled, rubbing his head as he sat up, looking around to see where they had ended up. The noble was wincing from where the open wound on his shoulder was pressed so firmly against the floor, small black spots entering his vision from the pain.

“Eh... This still looks like Soul Society...” Shiro blinked as he realised he was still straddled over the noble and peered down at him.

“It looks a little like Division Twelve to me.” Byakuya agreed, looking around from his position, he paused as he saw a gentle flush rise in the albinos' cheeks, taking him by surprise, “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah...” Shiro swallowed and carefully got to his feet, helping the noble up as well, “Division Twelve huh? Ain't that Urahara's old stompin' ground?”

“Indeed, before he was exiled he was the Taichou here.” He nodded, brushing his shihakusho down restlessly as he started walking.

Turning several corners, the noble found that the Division wasn't remotely laid out like it was in reality, there were more dead ends and twists than Mayuri was capable of imagining, it was almost enough to make him lose hope of ever finding a way back out of the maze, but Shiro's presence provided some comfort, despite the Hollow being just as lost as he was.

Frowning deeply, Byakuya came to a sharp stop, looking left and then right at the crossroads he'd guided them to, he huffed and rested his hands on his hips, wondering if this was the puzzle they had to solve, or if it was merely the appetizer.

His ears pricked as he heard a gentle hum of music from somewhere to their left, tilting his head as he also detected laughter and exchanges of humorous insults. Those were two very familiar voices and he found himself following them towards the source.

The noble's expression turned to one of annoyance as he found himself stood outside of a tavern, one which he knew to reside in Rukongai, it was a favourite haunt of Renji's whenever the man was off duty.

“Oh why do I feel like I know exactly what is behind this door.” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Shiro broke into a wide grin, cackling loudly, “This is gonna be fun!”

The stench of saké burned his nose and made him wince in distaste, the entire room reeked of the stuff and he only knew one man who had the stomach for that level of alcohol. Suspicions confirmed as he laid eyes on the relaxed form of Shunsui Kyōraku, the man's trademark hat was tilted low over his face and he was reclining on the floor with his outlandishly pink kimono draped over his shoulders. Beside him, the equally tranquil figure of Kisuke Urahara, sipping from his saké bowl and waving lazily at them.

“Ah there you are! We were beginning to think you'd never arrive. Thought we'd have to send out a search party. Byakuya-san. Shiro-san.” Urahara topped his bowl up and prodded Kyōraku in the ribs.

“Hmm? Oh, are they here?” The man sat up slowly, nudging his hat back just enough to peer at them, “Oh finally! Come and sit down, let's share a drink.”

Byakuya's eyes furrowed deeply as he stared at the two, glancing at his albino companion in confusion, “What is going on?”

“Well, we're in the presence of the two laziest pair of idiots I've ever met.” Came the snorted reply, “Come on, we don't have to worry about these two.”

“I see.” He muttered, refusing the drink which was offered, “So, how do we progress from here?”

“Progress?” Urahara asked, “Why not just stay for a while, relax, take the weight off your feet Byakuya-san.”

“I'm afraid that isn't possible. I really have to continue, I need to find Ichigo.”

“Ugh, so blunt. So formal.” Kyōraku complained, covering his face again.

“Will you let us pass?” Byakuya pressed.

The pair shared a look, and as if something of a silent understanding passed between them, Kyōraku chuckled, “We will. But only if you indulge us first.”

“What could I possibly have which you desire?”

Urahara sat up a little straighter, staring at him as the atmosphere began to shift, the lull of saké growing stronger by the second, growing more intoxicating by scent alone. Byakuya felt his head spin slightly as his body became heavy and he tried to blink his way through his, faltering at how tired he found himself becoming.

“Aw no fair! Ya can't just will him into a bein' drunk!” Shiro's voice sounded far away but close at the same time.

“We are lazy, and we are bored.” Urahara muttered, “If Byakuya-san is as intelligent as Ichigo thinks then I want to test that. You will indulge us in a game of riddles. If you win, you may progress. If you lose... You stay here forever.”

“You have got to be joking.” The noble slurred, resting a hand on the floor to steady himself, “If that's the... Case at least stop with the... Fog...”

“This is our territory, so it is our rules. Take it or leave it.”

Byakuya shot a glare at the pair, “Fine. Get on with it.” He groaned as he slipped and found himself flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling angrily.

“Would you like to start, or shall I?” Urahara addressed Kyōraku politely.

“I shall take the first one, pour the drinks in the meantime.” A lazy hand wave was given.

Silence fell for several long minutes, Byakuya wondered if the man had fallen asleep, he could hear a gentle rumble of breathing from his general direction but he found himself incapable of moving to look or sate his curiosity.

“A cloud was my mother, the wind is my father, my son is the cool stream, and my daughter is the fruit of the land. A rainbow is my bed, the earth my final resting place, what am I?” The voice was sudden and confident.

The noble frowned as he considered the words, sucking in a deep breath as he found the smell of saké wasn't quite as pungent as before, perhaps he was becoming used to it, he made the sound at the back of his throat as he thought, the fog in his head certainly wasn't helping his cognitive abilities, and yet somehow he felt like the answer would be related to Ichigo, related to some part of his life or his soul. It made sense after all, this was Ichigo's Inner World. Everything was, in some way, about him.

“Rain?” He asked, he had often heard Ichigo grumbling about hating the rain, but he had never discovered the reason.

“Correct.”

“The shorter I am, the bigger I am. What am I?” Urahara's voice came next, slurred through tiredness but no less confident in his abilities to trip the noble up.

He mumbled the words back to himself, huffing gently as he found himself already annoyed by the ridiculous game, he raised an eyebrow as Shiro's face suddenly appeared over his, apparently checking to see if he was still working on an answer. There was something on the other's expression, a smug satisfaction which suggested the Hollow already had the answer. He huffed again, an action he felt he was becoming far to familiar with, his annoyance flickering. He'd always had a short... He groaned and wanted to slap himself, “A temper.”

“Aw, I thought that one was going to get you for sure.” The blond's pout was audible.

“Yo, can I do one? This looks fun.”

“No!” Byakuya hissed.

“Yes! Make sure its a good one though!” Urahara sounded almost elated by the Hollow's interest.

“Alright, alright gimme a sec here...” There was a quiet tapping sound as fingers tickled the wooden floorboards, “Oh okay, I got one! I'd grab a hold of all I can, restless in my spree, amidst the crimes I hung a man, and then the man hung me. I met some more of my own kind, we really got along, in open hid where none could find, except the dead and gone.”

“What the _fuck_?” Byakuya growled, glaring up at the Hollow furiously, “You're meant to be helping me, not hindering me!”

“That's a good one, I'm impressed.” Kyōraku's voice was full of genuine praise, “I'm not sure even I know the answer to that one.”

Groaning, he raised an arm over eyes eyes, blotting out the sight of the room as he considered the riddle. It was far more in depth than those of the others, and he made a silent vow to punish his companion for his meddling once they were free.

“I'd grab a hold of all I can...” He repeated to himself, “Relentless in my spree... Mm... Amidst the crimes I hung a man... Hung... So it has to be some kind of restraint... Mm, and then the man hung me... Definitely a restraint, some kind of... Substance... Mm... I really hate you right now. Can I hear the rest again?”

“I met some more of my own kind, we really got along, in open hid where none could find, except the dead and gone.”

“Thanks, I think.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Met more of my own kind... After being hung? Ugh. Where none could find, except the dead and gone... Mm. Wait...” He muttered the riddle under his breath again, scowling at his arm as his jaw clenched, “Is it a spider's web?”

“Aw damn it! I thought I had ya with that one!” The Hollow sounded disappointed, but a quick glance at his face revealed a bright smile.

“You are a bastard Shiro.” Byakuya rolled his eyes, sitting up with a struggle and holding a hand out, “I'll have that drink now, if you don't mind, I'm going to need it to get through this.”

“Are you not enjoying our little game?” Kyōraku pouted.

“I am enjoying it as much as one might enjoy sticking pins in their eyes.” He muttered, “But it makes a pleasant change from fighting I suppose.”

“I mean, we could fight if you really wanted.” Urahara shrugged, “But personally I'd rather just... Chill...”

“Come on, next riddle!” Shiro whined.

“Ah, good point Shiro-san... I think it is your turn, Kyōraku.” The blond man grinned.

Allowing the pink kimono to slide from his shoulders as he sat up properly, the heavily intoxicated man sighed deeply, “Mm... It's been around for millions of years, but is never more than a month old. What is it?”

Eyebrows almost disappeared under his hair at that, staring with a disgruntled expression, “Really? It's the moon.”

“Wha-?” Kyōraku looked annoyed momentarily, “How did you-?”

“It is unfortunate for you that I have studied the phases of the moon since childhood, a pet hobby of mine.” He flicked his hair over his shoulder smugly.

“Well damn.” The man complained, folding his arms in a sulk, “Alright, well choke on this one then! You can swallow me, but I can consume you too. What am I?”

“Pride.” He muttered, looking off to the side as if he was beginning to get bored, “I can't believe you'd try to trip me up with one of my biggest personality traits.”

“Flaws more like.” Shiro muttered.

Clearly furious, the Kyōraku grabbed the bottle of saké from his comrade and started drinking straight from it, flopping backwards as the bottle slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor, empty. Low, angry snores escaping from under the straw hat.

“My, my it isn't like him to get so wound up when he loses.” Urahara smirked, setting his saké cup down now it was obvious he wouldn't be getting anymore, “I guess it is down to me to finish this challenge.”

“If you must.” The noble heaved a sigh.

“You heard me before, yet you hear me again, but then I die, until you call me again. What am I?” The blond rested an arm over his raised knee.

“An echo. My goodness this really is becoming tiresome.”

Jaw clenched, the man exhaled slowly through his nose, glaring slightly, “I live in my little house all alone. There are no windows or doors, and if I want to go out, I have to break through the wall. What am I?”

It took a few minutes, but the bored expression never left Byakuya's face, “A chick in its shell.”

“Man, have ya ever had yer ass handed to ya quite so thoroughly?” Shiro smirked mockingly at their remaining host.

“Shut up you.” He replied angrily, standing up sharply, “Last riddle! If you get this one then I'll let you progress onwards!”

“Then hurry up and let's get this over with.” The noble stood up slowly, fists clenched at his sides.

“It cannot be seen whenever it is there, it fills up a room and is much like the air. It cannot be touched, there is nothing to hear. It is quite harmless, there is nothing to fear.”

Tension flooded the room, the noble took a few confident steps forward, coming almost nose to nose with Urahara, his eyes narrowing as he glared at him, “Darkness.”

There was a moment of complete silence, and without warning Urahara and Kyōraku crumbled into nothingness. Byakuya stared and looked confused, not entirely sure if that meant he had won or lost, glancing at Shiro. He let out a surprised yelp as the room suddenly turned on its side, throwing them both towards the wall. He reached out, grabbing the Hollow's hand just in time as they smashed through the window.


	25. The Core

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the end of the journey in sight Byakuya finds himself filled with hope and gratitude, but he soon realises victory is far from assured, as Shiro shows his true colours once again.

Coughing hard, Byakuya groaned as he lifted his head, eyes rolling slightly as he shook off the remnants of unconsciousness, flinching as a spike of pain shot through his body. Everything hurt. His memories were a little cloudy but he remembered crashing through the window of the tavern and falling into the abyss beyond. The recollection of Shiro's hand grabbing hold of his own made him glanced around his new location in search of the Hollow, feeling oddly lonely without his company.

Pushing himself onto his knees, he swallowed back bile as the pavement swirled in front of him, blackness tingeing the edges of his vision which had nothing to do with Shiro's potential influence. His arms shook and he almost fell flat on his face again, frowning faintly as he saw specks of blood strike the concrete under his palms.

A quivering hand lifted and pressed against his forehead, rocking back onto his knees as he felt a deep gash above his eyebrow. Just how hard had he hit the floor? He hadn't taken any form of damage from falling through Ichigo's Inner World up until now, what had changed?

“Holy shit! There ya are!”

Relief zapped through him like an electric current as Shiro came into sight, the Hollow rushed towards him and dropped at his side, checking the head wound over with cold hands.

“Where were you?” He asked, frowning faintly.

“Got separated durin' the fall. Couldn't find ya for a while, couldn't even sense ya reiatsu. Were ya knocked out?” The pale version of Ichigo was fussing over him, much how he imagined his sunset version would do in the same circumstances.

“Mm, I think so.” He winced as his wound was touched around the edges, “What happened? How did I get injured?”

The Hollow glanced skywards, taking in the thick cloud cover above them, it was threatening to rain, “Probably an outside influence. King might have had a blip or somethin'... Maybe his condition got worse?”

“Then we don't have a lot of time left to finish this.” Forcing himself to stand, he grabbed the Hollow's arm to steady himself and shook his head harshly, “Ugh, we need to get to Ichigo and get him out of here.”

“Well, on the subject of findin' King... Ya might wanna turn around.”

Spinning on the spot, Byakuya cast an eager gaze across the city landscape, briefly taking notice of the blue and black skyscrapers which surrounded them before his eyes fell on the shock of orange hair which pinpointed Ichigo.

He felt like the breath had been knocked from his lungs, finally able to cast his eyes over the familiar form of the person he'd come so far to find. The noble felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips as the world seemed to slow down around him, even if it was only for a moment.

“He seems... Frozen. What's going on?” He asked.

Shiro seemed disinterested in his question as he started walking towards the strawberry, he only stopped when Byakuya grabbed his arm, “Look, ya don't need to worry, ya don't have to fight either of us. Ya don't really need to do anythin' now.”

“What do you mean? I just want to see if he's alright. What's going on?” The noble pressed, frowning softly as his smile faded.

Shiro stared at him, his expression changing slowly from contentment to mania, there was a dark glint in his eyes which seemed to spit danger, “He ain't your concern anymore. Back off.”

“Who's side are you on?” He asked quietly, fresh concern rising from his gut.

“Who's side?” The Hollow repeated, laughing loudly, “I'm on my side of course! Where else would I be?”

“Are you... Did you accompany me just so you could reach him?”

“Yes and no. I couldn't have found my way back without yer help. But now I'm back, and I'll take what's mine.”

Tension seeped into Byakuya's stance, “I trusted you!”

“More fool ya! Byakuya Kuchiki!” Shiro's eyes were empty of the former affection they'd held, instead they contained only the raw desire to devour.

“You bastard.” He hissed, clenching a fist, “Were you playing me all along? Or has your true instinct returned only now that you see your meal before you?”

“Does it really matter?”

“No.” He breathed, “No it does not.”

He kicked off the floor with all his might, using Shunpo to shoot past the Hollow with outstretched hands, reaching for Ichigo in a desperate attempt to snag him out of the line of on coming danger; his body arched as a bone breaking kick connected with his abdomen, making him spit blood as he impacted with one of the skyscrapers, sliding down to the floor with a jolt.

Lifting his head again, he looked towards the still form of his heart's desire. Ichigo remained stood in the middle of the street, his head tilted upwards as if he was observing the storming sky above, his expression was slack and yet there was a worrisome crease at the corners of his eyes, as if he was seeing or feeling something which was making him anxious. Byakuya wondered just how much Ichigo was currently aware of in that state, he didn't seem disturbed by the violent crash his body had made, nor the overwhelmingly dark reiatsu approaching.

Snarling, Byakuya lifted his right hand, “Ye Lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the South! Hadō 31: Shakkahō!” As the red orb charged in his palm, he lifted his left hand, barely taking a breath as he chanted again, “Ye Lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! On the wall of blue flame, inscribe a twin lotus. In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens! Hadō 73: Sōren Sōkatsui!”

The red and blue energy intermingled as they were fired together, engulfing the entire block in powerful waves, wiping out three buildings as it passed through them. He heard a roar of anger from the Hollow, knowing at least some damage had been dealt by his Kidō.

Pushing up onto his feet, he staggered, his bones creaking from the impact he'd taken, he shook it off and lifted his left hand again, aiming it at Ichigo's prone form; his expression darkened slightly at his decision to use such a tactic, “Hadō 1: Shō!”

The kinetic energy which pulsed from his fingertips connected with Ichigo's back, flinging him forwards just in time to miss an enraged Shiro who had been swinging Zangetsu towards his head.

“Bakudō 9: Geki!” Red energy seeped across his entire body as his nimble fingers drew symbols in the air in front of him, clenching his teeth at the draw on his reiatsu as he shot forwards, hand wrapping around Shiro's wrist rightly, engulfing him in the scarlet light, watching as the Hollow became paralysed.

“Ya think yer pathetic Kidō can stop me? I'll break this, and then I'll break ya... I will become the King, ya can't stop me!” Shiro hissed, quivering as he fought the energy which held him in place.

“If I have to contain you here for a thousand years, I will do so.” Byakuya breathed, “But we are running out of time, if he dies, so do you.”

“If he dies I can take control! He won't be around to stop me anymore!”

“Then _I_ will have to stop you for him.” He lifted his free hand and narrowed his eyes, “Hadō 33: Sōkatsui!”

At such close range, the burn of blue flames tore through his fingerless tekkō, the force throwing them away from each other. He winced through the pain, feeling blood dripping down his fingertips as he watched crimson seep over the white shihakusho the Hollow was wearing.

His second impact with a building left him just as dazed as the first time and he almost blacked out, the only thing stopping him was the faint glimmer of sunset orange he could see in his peripheral vision. If he passed out, no one would protect Ichigo, and if Shiro took control... Division Four would be in danger.

Unohana, Urahara, Yoruichi, Renji... Rukia. They were all out there waiting. He couldn't allow them to come to harm. He wouldn't allow it.

“Gotta hand it to ya, not many people would have the guts to face me like this. Weaponless, defenceless, at a disadvantage... Is that what it means to be a Taichou, or is yer death wish unique to ya?”

Eyes widening, his gaze snapped up as the Hollow appeared beside him, blood red Cero already fully charged in his outstretched fist, he would be able to dodge it in time.

“Bakudō 81: Dankū!” He regretted that his voice was barely more than a whisper, and was thrown some distance as the Cero erupted through the defensive wall he'd managed to create within seconds of on coming death.

His body skidded across the tarmac of the road he'd been tossed into, blood seeping from between his lips and down the side of his face as he rolled to a stop. He was on his back, staring up at the sky which had grown thunderous during their clash. Flashes of lightening did nothing to illuminate the dark canopy of sky, fat drops of rain beginning to splash the buildings and floor.

He gasped, panting for breath as he felt the water strike him. Was this why Ichigo hated the rain? Was it always raining in his Inner World? He was sure he too would loath it if that was the case. His own Inner World was usually as calm and tranquil as his stoic front. Senbonzakura would likely be horrified if storms like this struck his home, the Zanpakutō so despised change.

Carefully turning onto his front, the noble dug his hands into the floor as he tried to rise, refusing to be beaten while laying down. He wavered dangerously as blood filled his mouth and he doubled over as it erupted from him without permission, splashing down the front of his shihakusho and over his hands.

Was he dying? Was Ichigo dying?

He felt cold. There was an uncomfortable chill settling around his shoulders, one which couldn't be accounted for by the torrential rains. It was getting so hard to keep his eyes open, his lids were so heavy, so tired. Was Ichigo's body failing again? Was that why he was suddenly finding it so hard to get up? Or had he taken more damage than he'd realised?

He stumbled, falling back down and landing against something soft. He peered around uncertainly, faltering as his gaze fell upon Ichigo's face.

He looked like he was sleeping soundly, but there was a frown on his face which wouldn't relax, he looked like he was in pain. A scowl formed on the noble's face in response and he gingerly reached down, allowing his fingers to brush the soft skin of Ichigo's cheek, he felt so much warmer than his actual body, or maybe it was because his hands were cold. He wasn't sure.

“How ridiculous... To find myself in such a position.” He muttered, chuckling humourlessly as he heard approaching footsteps, glancing up to see Shiro prowling towards them both, “Whatever it takes... I did say that. Whatever it takes...”

Lurching to his feet, the noble limped forwards, his shoulders slumped as he fixed the Hollow with a deathly glare. He had promised to do whatever it took to bring Ichigo back. Yoruichi was waiting for their game of tag. Rukia and Renji were waiting for their best friend to scowl at them and complain about them being too sentimental. Urahara was waiting for the guilt of Māji's previous failure to be lifted by a success. Soul Society was waiting.

Raising his left hand slowly, he watched his fingers shake from the damage inflicted by his earlier Kidō, his right hand twisted behind him, aiming at Ichigo as he began chanting under his breath, his skill with Nijū Eishō allowing him to mix the incantations of two very different spells, his breathing laboured as he forced himself to keep going.

Behind him, Ichigo was engulfed within a pale blue barrier, completely entrapping his body. He saw Shiro speed up, clearly displeased with the obstacle between him and his prize, the Hollow's temper was to his advantage as he shot straight towards him, apparently deciding he would cut him down and finish things fast, no longer enjoying the game of cat and mouse.

Preparing himself for the on coming pain, Byakuya gritted his teeth as the huge blade of Zangetsu buried itself in his stomach, fresh blood bubbled up from between his teeth as he completed his chant, outstretched left hand fisting in white locks of hair.

“Hadō 96: Ittō Kasō.”

The pain was immense. He'd read about it, of course, but experiencing it was something utterly different. Both Shiro and he watched the brilliant red cracks which appeared in his skin, crawling and creeping up his arm, disappearing under the tattered sleeve of his shihakusho as they began to glow with force.

Shiro's eyes turned to his and there was a distinctive expression of terror etched on his face, “YOU'RE INSANE!”

“Look who's talking.” He allowed a dark smile to uplift his lips as the ground beneath them was torn open by a pillar of scarlet light which took the form of a giant katana tip, there was a second of silence before the world roared around them, as the beam of energy exploded with devastating effect, levelling countless skyscrapers within the vicinity.

* * *

Zangetsu drew in a breath. The destruction was far beyond anything he had expected. To think the Hollow would fight so hard to claim what was his, to the ignorance of everything else which moved in the shadows. The creature really was more trouble than he was worth. Utterly intolerable. And yet necessary.

Closing his eyes, he felt a change in the breeze and the pressure which had been building during the thunderstorm began to fade, allowing warm rays of sunshine to break through the cover of cloud. A soft sigh of relief escaped his lips as he stepped down from the thin black post he usually resided upon.

Long black coat fluttering out around him as he dropped off the side of the building, his eyes opened to the scene before him. It would take some time for the Inner World to recover from such a battle, it was far worse than anything he had come to see so far.

Landing lightly on his feet, Zangetsu glanced at the three bodies scattered across the street, expression unchanged as he checked each one, eyes lingering only a little longer on Ichigo than the others.

The grim spirit strode forwards, easily tearing down the pale blue barrier which stood between him and his Shinigami partner, he crouched and carefully assessed the damage that had been afflicted, subtly surprised to find barely a scratch on his body.

“Can you hear me now, Ichigo?” He asked, long locks of dark hair tumbling down around his face.

“Old Man? Z-Zangetsu?” Chestnut eyes winced as they opened.

“Welcome back.” The Zanpakutō spirit mused, offering a hand out to assist his partner in standing.

Groaning as he was pulled to his feet, Ichigo peered around slowly at the devastation, “What the fuck happened?”

“Your pale counterpart decided to entertain himself with the Shinigami who came here to retrieve you.” A bespectacled glare looked out over the debris until it came to rest upon a crumpled, white form.

Ichigo paused for thought, following his gaze before anger etched over his expression, “ _You_.”

Stalking forwards, the strawberry clambered over a broken railing, jumped over a large section of crumbling wall and stomped a furious foot onto the chest of the Hollow, refusing to relent even as he heard a weak cry of pain from his albino double.

“You _son-of-a-bitch_. I give you control for all of half an hour and suddenly I can't get out of my Inner World? What the _fuck_ have you been doing out there?” The strawberry snarled, twisting his heel sharply.

“Ack!” The Hollow arched, trying to squirm away from the blossoming pain in his gut, blood dripping down the side of his face and chest from the Kidō, “F-Fuck when did ya get so mad?”

“I'm asking the questions, bastard! _What did you do_?!” He hissed.

It was startling to see just how alike they looked, like inverted versions of each other. And yet where there was warmth in his own being, there was only coldness and malice coming from the other. It was terrifying, and yet oddly familiar, borderline comforting.

“I didn't trap ya in here, I swear! Ow! I didn't! King, I swear on our life!” The Hollow was digging his fingers into Ichigo's heel in an effort to alleviate the pressure, “When that blue haired freak broke our mask I got stuck outside of yer Inner World, in like... A limbo, I ain't been able to get back in until now!”

“Why the hell would I believe you?”

“Zangetsu, tell him!”

Two pairs of eyes fixed on the Zanpakutō spirit, he blinked and tucked his hands in the pockets of his long coat, “As much as it pains me to help him given the destruction he has caused, the Hollow speaks the truth. When you gave him control, the Cero which broke his mask tore the pair of you apart by force, trapping you in here, and him... In the void between the real world and the Inner World.”

“Fuck.” Ichigo breathed, looking down at his doppelgänger, “How did you get back in?”

“Yer little playmate broke in.” The Hollow muttered, looking away in annoyance as he remained pinned down, “Seems like yer body ain't doing too great on the outside, he came in to get ya.”

“My playmate?” He paused, his eyes widened, “You mean Byakuya?”

“Yeah.” There was a pout forming, “I tried to help him... Acted like a guide... But things went to shit when we got back here.”

“What do you mean?”

Shiro hesitated, hissing as the heel on his chest twisted again, “So mean,” he winced, “I was different. Out there, in the limbo... I was better. I wanted to help, wanted to be good. And I was good. Until we managed to reach this fuckin' place. It was like being reunited with a bad habit.”

“I don't understand.” The strawberry gently loosened the pressure he was pinning the other man with.

“Hollows are instinctual. The most basic of needs, the simplest of urges. We're fuelled by 'em.” Shiro sighed deeply as he was allowed to breathe a little easier, “I crave power, yer power. I don't mean to, it's just what I am. While we were apart I could breathe, I could concentrate, I could be better. But the moment I got back it crashed around me. The need returned. And I tried to take what I wanted.”

Ichigo removed his foot completely and stepped back, frowning faintly at the Hollow, he could understand those urges, for the longest time it was almost all he knew as well. He couldn't help but feel a swell of pity rising in his chest.

“You seem in control now.” He shrugged, holding a hand out, “Come on.”

“What?” The pale figure frowned deeply, “Yer... Forgivin' me?”

“No, I'm pissed that you want to take over but I owe you for helping me save Rukia and Byakuya. I don't forget the people I owe.” He returned the frown with one of his own, “Come on.”

A pale hand reached up and accepted the help, staggering a little before he rolled his shoulders, “Man yer a sap.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Should probably go help yer playmate... The Kidō he used was...” He trailed off, “Hadō 96.”

Ichigo's eyes widened sharply, “The spell of sacrifice? What was he thinking?”

The strawberry turned on the spot and ran across the street, he could see a slumped form up ahead and nearly tripped in his effort to get closer as fast as possible.

The crater was shallow but wide, with a searing slash engraved deeply into the tarmac road, smoke tendrils were still trickling skywards from the scorch marks and the embers which clung so desperately to life on every surface.

Byakuya was on his back, blood spilling laboriously from the large stab wound in his abdomen, staining his black uniform with crimson; his left sleeve was torn and smouldering as if it had been burnt away to reveal the charred skin of his arm and hand. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat and blood was leaked from parted lips.

He looked like death.

“Byakuya?” He gulped, dropping down at his side, his hands twitching in his lap as he struggled to know whether he should touch him or not, “Can you hear me?”

He heard footsteps growing closer and a brief glance around showed him Zangetsu and Shiro were stood together, far enough to give him privacy but close enough that they could help if it was needed. There was a swell of gratitude in his gut, despite the mess his Hollow had created, he couldn't bring himself to blame him.

The noble was in a bad way, he could tell at a glance, and while he wasn't sure if it was possible to die inside someone else's Inner World he didn't really want to test it. They had to leave, and soon. If Shiro and Zangetsu were telling the truth and his body was failing, there was really no telling how long he had.

“Can you help me?” He glanced towards his two companions.

“Sure.”

“Of course, Ichigo.”

His gratitude only grew as the pair worked together, helping him heft Byakuya onto his back, draping his arms around his neck to keep him balanced. The malice he'd seen in Shiro's face had died down, apparently he truly was capable of remorse.

“You like him, don't you?” The strawberry felt a small tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I like him because you like him.” The Hollow looked away awkwardly, “But it works both ways. Remember that.”

Ichigo nodded once and looked around at the nightmare state of his Inner World, “Man, this place needs a break from my shit.”

“It would not be the same without being redecorated every few months.” The usually grim Zanpakutō soul seemed to smirk.

“Screw you, Old Man.” He shook his head and paused, “How do I get out?”

“This is your world, Ichigo. You need only desire to leave.”

“Oh... Right.”

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, gritting his teeth with concentration as he tried to focus on drawing himself and his lover out of the entrapment of his own head.

“Oi,” Shiro's voice interrupted him briefly, “I'll only say this once. I'm not gonna have it, Ichigo, I dunno about Zangetsu, but I refuse to carry a king who's weaker than me, and get cut to ribbons with him. If yer weaker than me, I'll destroy ya, and take yer crown for myself.”

Ichigo shot him a glare, that hunger was back already, “Is that your best attempt and wishing me good luck?”

“Maybe. But I ain't going anywhere, Aibou. If ya don't wanna end up with me in charge make sure ya don't die again.”

_'Aibou?'_ The strawberry frowned faintly, it was fitting in a sense, they were partners in crime regardless of whether or not the Hollow wanted his power.

* * *

Ichigo sucked in a deep breath, eyes fluttering in a wince as he was momentarily blinded by the warm sunlight filtering through the window above his bed. The world looked oddly tricoloured compared to the blue and black theme of his Inner World, he'd grown so used to it during his imprisonment.

Fingers twitching at his sides, he allowed his gaze to roam the room, surprised to see so many confused and happy faces greeting him from around his bedside.

Closest to him was Unohana, she looked tired and yet overwhelmingly relieved; beside her was her Fukutaichou Isane who also looked ready for a fortnight long sleep; Renji and Rukia were side by side at the bottom of the bed, he was sure he could see Rukia's hand being held tightly in one of the redhead's larger ones, she looked like she had been crying. Shifting to the right of his best friends he was surprised to see the unflappable grin on Urahara's face, hat tilted down to shield his eyes, one of the blond's hands was resting on the head of a sleeping black cat that was curled up on his lap.

His throat was sore, too sore to speak, but as he suddenly remembered the state Byakuya had been in while inside his head, his eyes instantly searched for him, feeling a weight at his side, he saw the man stretched out beside him, face slightly flushed and sheened with sweat. His breathing was ragged and a small frown puckered his brow. He was still sleeping soundly.

What drew him in, with concern, was the sight of thick bandages which were wrapped around his lover's bare torso and left arm. Raising a shaky hand of his own, he touched the noble's cheek, feeling how clammy he was, he forced his voice out.

“He looks... Like shit.” He muttered, earning a small snort from Renji.

“Indeed, it would appear Byakuya-san encountered a lot of resistance in that head of yours.” Urahara murmured from his seated position.

“I don't understand.”

“Bakudō 101: Māji, was a Kidō of my own making, something to allow a soul to enter the Inner World of another. It is as powerful as it is dangerous.” The blond lifted the sleeping cat off his legs and rested it on the chair as he stood, “It not only intermingles your Inner Worlds, but your Souls as well.”

“So... Any damage you take in the Inner World is reflected on your body?” He asked.

“Correct, Kurosaki-san.” The fan was flourished for effect.

“But...” His mouth went dry and his gaze settled on the bandaged arm hanging limply on the bed.

Unohana reached out, resting her hand gently on his orange tresses of hair, “Kuchiki Taichou was very insistent upon helping you, saving you. Anything he did or didn't do within your Inner World was done because he felt it needed to happen. Do not blame yourself, Kurosaki-san.”

He glanced up at her, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden, he slumped back and let out a long breath, “He's an idiot.”

“Says you, idiot!” Rukia muttered, free hand clenched in a fist, “What were you thinking?! Letting your Hollow out like that! You could have died!”

Ichigo smiled faintly at her rebuke, accepting her scolding willingly, he only dared speak when it became apparent she genuinely wanted an answer, “Rukia Kuchiki it's taken me a long time to realise it... But dying for my friends is the least I am willing to do.”

Her eyes widened at his admission, mouth falling open slightly, “You... You idiot.”

His lips merely twitched again and he glanced down at his Taichou, his lover, “I still have a lot of things to make amends for.”


	26. Will Of The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger seems to have passed for the time being, allowing everyone chance to heal and recover. Bonds can be strengthened, friendships can be forged and cruelty can be forgiven.

Ichigo laid uncomfortably on his bed, staring up at the bland ceiling with a small scowl that left a crease between his eyebrows, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. He wasn't sure what was stranger, the fact he had woken from his coma to see his friends all healed and in perfect health, or the sight of Byakuya asleep beside him. Slightly broken, feverish, resilient.

Questions from Rukia, from Renji, from Urahara and Unohana had left him reeling. Unable to give tangible answers.

What had happened to him after he had blacked out on Sôkyoku Hill? What had happened to entrap him in his Inner World? Had he sensed Byakuya venturing through the winding corridors of his mind? Was he aware of the trials he had faced to reach the core?

The truth, for all that he could give them, was simple. Just as Zangetsu and Shiro had explained, Grimmjow's attack had forcible separated his entity from Shiro's upon unconsciousness. Forcing Shiro into the limbo like world surrounding his most precious Inner World, while Ichigo himself had been cocooned within. Frozen in time. Unseeing. Unhearing. Unaware.

He remembered looking up between the skyscrapers, he remembered seeing the threatening and tremulous storm clouds overhead. And then nothing. Nothing at all until Zangetsu had woken him. Nothing until he had set eyes on the devastation of his inner city. Whatever Byakuya had done, whatever he had been through... He would only gain those answers from the nobleman himself.

Chestnut eyes peeled away from the ceiling, coming to rest on the haphazardly placed bed on the other side of his private room. It had taken a lot of begging, pleading and protesting to convince Unohana to allow Byakuya to remain nearby. The idea of the man being stowed away in a different room had made his chest throb with pain, he wanted Byakuya close. Wanted him nearby. Wanted to see him.

Somehow, his desperation had struck a chord with the woman. She had taken mercy. Byakuya had been allowed to remain and an awkwardly placed bed now squeezed into the slightly too small space of the room.

Ichigo licked his lips nervously, eyes scanning the pale form. It had been a few scattered days since he'd woken himself, but Byakuya still slept. According to Unohana's report, the nobleman had sustained his injuries during the tousle to reach Ichigo's Inner World, whatever defences protected his head... They were effective.

The terrible wound in the man's gut was his worst injury by far, and Ichigo continuously felt Shiro's grief and regret. If the Hollow was to be believed, he truly hadn't wanted to hurt Byakuya. Instinct... Instinct had taken over. In truth, Shiro truly liked the nobleman. Cared for him even. He was remorseful.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he groaned softly. It was hard, his muscles were still stiff from sleep. His body was sore from the strain his Soul had been under. But as his bare soles brushed the cool tile floors, he knew he could muster the strength from somewhere deep inside.

He slid from the bed, grateful to no longer been trussed up to all manner of machines. His legs wobbled from the knee for a few brief minutes as he put all his weight into his legs and stood up straight. He hadn't been allowed out of bed since waking up, Unohana was strict and thorough. She didn't want him putting himself under any strain. But still...

He shuffled across the room awkwardly, uncomfortable hospital gown chaffing against his skin, and nearly fell just as he reached the edge of the nobleman's bed. He caught himself, barely, and perched on the mattress beside the sleeping raven. A soft sigh escaped him, and he reached out with tentative fingers, allowing the pads to gently brush against pale cheeks.

Byakuya's skin was just as soft as he remembered, and thankfully he was no longer clammy and feverish, instead he bore a healthy glow. His long black hair was a little tatty, his kenseikan missing from his attire, he looked a little strange without them. Even while the noble looked fragile, even while he looked weakened and less regal than normal... He still made the strawberry's heart skip a beat.

Ichigo was jarred, out of touch with reality. His memories a little jumbled, foggy. He could recall awakening briefly on Sôkyoku Hill, speaking with Aizen. Aizen had tamed Shiro, somehow. He remembered the sky tearing open, the traitors leaving through the Negacíon of the Menos Grande. He remembered falling, collapsing, dying. He remembered speaking of his fears, of his terror. He remembered speaking of his love for Byakuya.

The strawberry let out a small gasp at the thought. That small, tiny moment which eclipsed everything else. The realisation that he... He felt love. He'd feared it wouldn't happen. Feared himself incapable. He'd never wanted to lead Byakuya on with false hope, he'd been honest from the start of their... Changed relationship. He'd truly believed he would never recover the ability to love and yet somehow... Somehow!

It burned bright like a beacon in his chest. Stuttering his breath, making his chest swell with hope and joy and a cataclysm of other things he could barely name. It made his head ache and swim and swirl with intoxicating thoughts of the future. It made his eyes sting with tears. Happy tears. Hopeful tears.

Before he could contain himself, before he could control himself... They were breaking free and rolling down his cheeks. He was biting down on his bottom lip, stifling the sobs that wanted to break free.

He loved Byakuya Kuchiki. He loved him. And he wanted him to get better, heal and wake up. He wanted to kiss him and hold him and make love to him. He wanted them to be together without fear. There was no fear now! Aizen was gone! Gin was gone! They didn't have to hide. Surely there would be awkwardness with Byakuya's family, but at least as far as their own survival was concerned... They didn't have to hide. They didn't have to worry that a single word or look out of place would lead to their death.

To an extent, they could be free.

Fingers reaching towards the noble's beside table, he picked up the antique bristle hairbrush Rukia had left behind. It was silver with ivory and amethyst embellishments. Sucking in a breath, well aware that he was most likely holding something worth more than a mansion in Seireitei, Ichigo began running it through the sleeping man's locks of hair. He was careful, gentle, tender. Combing away the knots and tangled until it was once again sleek and refined.

“I'll take care of you.” He found himself saying, his voice a little croaky with emotion, “You spent months looking out for me, helping me and taking care of me... Now it's my turn. If your pride will allow it, I'd like to care for you. To make sure you heal and get strong again. It's the least I owe you.”

He smiled to himself, putting the brush down when he was quite sure he'd finished. Byakuya looked more like himself, although odd without his kenseikan.

“You know, you turned everything on it's head. My whole world. I had everything laid out in front of me. I was so sure of my path. So sure of everything I was doing for Aizen... Then you came along like a hurricane and whisked everything away.” He chuckled, looking down at his hands, “For someone like me, that kind of change is terrifying. I was plunged into the unknown. I would have been utterly lost without you to guide me. You really did save me, Byakuya. I know it won't be easy, I have no idea what is going to happen with the Goeti Thirteen... Surely they must know about my past... Even if the worst happens... I'll never stop being grateful that you gave me another option.”

“The worst won't happen, Ichigo.”

The strawberry turned sharply, eyes wide in surprise as he saw Yoruichi leaning casually against the wall behind him. He hadn't heard her enter the room. She was as stealthy as he'd been lead to believe.

“What... Do you mean?” He asked uncertainly.

She grinned, mischievous eyes twinkling, “Consider it a favour to Little Byakuya. He asked for my help and I gave it. Just after your battle on Sôkyoku Hill, I made short work of erasing all evidence that you had ever knowingly been involved in Aizen's treachery. You are a free man, Ichigo.”

He stared, mouth hanging open, “You... He... They really don't know?”

“They know nothing. You've been given a second chance, make sure you make the most of it. Okay?”

“I will.” The strawberry said quietly, “Thank you, Yoruichi-san.”

She simply smiled, eyes moving to Byakuya's form for a long moment before she stood a little straighter, “You take care of him Ichigo. If you break his heart, I'll break your neck.”

He was sure she was more than capable of fulfilling that promise, but somehow he wasn't afraid. She cared about Byakuya, cared about his well being and his future. Of course she wanted to keep him safe. Of course she wanted to see him happy.

“I'd sooner break my own heart, than his.” He said quietly.

“I believe you.” The purple haired woman chuckled softly and headed towards the door, “Look after yourself too though, Ichigo. You have people who care about you. Probably a whole lot more than you realise.”

Ichigo stayed quiet, watching as she opened the door and disappeared into the hallway beyond. The soft tock of the door sliding shut again had him slumping. She was a powerful presence, even with her spirited and humorous behaviour.

Looking back down at Byakuya as a wave of weariness took him, Ichigo released a small yawn. He was still easily worn out, a side effect of his Soul's discord during his coma, and the injuries sustained on Sôkyoku Hill. He glanced blearily over at his own discarded bed, acknowledging that he should probably make the short journey back.

Eyelids reluctantly heavy, he instead found himself laying down on his side, snuggled up against Byakuya. He came to rest his head on the man's shoulder, inhaling deeply as the wash of the noble's scent took him away. Soft musk blended with a delicate flutter of blossoms and warmth. It smelled like home. Smelled like safety.

Sleep carried him away far easier than he liked. His head drooping as his eyes slipped shut. Yet it was undeniable how right it felt. Falling asleep beside Byakuya Kuchiki. It felt good, felt right. He liked it. He wasn't sure what they were, whether they were partners or lovers or more. But in that moment, it really didn't matter.

The next thing he was aware of was soft fingers brushing through his tousled hair, gently massaging his scalp and bringing a soft purr of pleasure from his lips. His eyes fluttered open slowly, chestnut meeting steel.

He sat up sharply, a gasp leaving him as his throat constricted.

“Byakuya?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands reaching out to cup the noble's face.

“Ichigo.” Came the slightly hoarse reply.

“Oh my... Fuck, I should let Unohana know you're awake... Everyone will be so relieved! I... I...” He trailed off, mouth hanging open limply as a small, very small, whimper rose up and choked him, “I've been so worried. When they told me the extent of your injuries I... I was...”

“I'm fine, Ichigo.” A small, wry smile tugged at soft lips, “A little sore, perhaps. But I will heal.”

“That's... Good. Really good. I... I...” He trailed off again, simply slumping as he stared at Byakuya, “You were willing to die... To save me.”

“You did the same.”

“What, is this a competition now?” He tried not to laugh.

“I certainly hope not. I, for one, have no desire to toe the line of Death's doorstep again anytime soon.” The Kuchiki heir's eyebrow twitched before he winced and stretched a little, “How are you?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes but gulped back the tears threatening to make themselves known yet again, “I'm fine! I'm completely... Fine. Just a little sore and... Disorientated. I'll recover. Fully. Because of you. You... Wonderful, selfless, brave, stupid, reckless fucking idiot!”

He failed miserably as a few spattered tears rolled down his cheeks, he saw Byakuya's eyes widen a little before they seemed to warm at the sight. His right hand lifted, Ichigo felt the warmth of the man's palm against his cheek and nuzzled into the contact. He sniffled in spite of himself.

“After such a declaration on Sôkyoku Hill,” Byakuya was beginning to sound more like himself, “How could I not do whatever it might take to bring back the man I love, when he gave so much to make amends for his previous darkness?”

“The man you...” Ichigo trailed off, his cheeks flushing as his scowl faded from sight, “Really?”

“Oh yes.”

“I-I mean... You said you were attracted to me, I hoped that your determination to help me came from something more but...” He was twiddling his thumbs nervously, plucking at his white yukata restlessly.

“I may not have realised it at first, but yes. Ichigo Kurosaki... I do love you.” Byakuya's head tilted slightly to the side, “Everything about you. The good and the bad. The light and the dark. The courage and the fear. The future and the past. I will accept all of it, as I always have done.”

The strawberry haired Third Seat let out a shaky breath, kissing Byakuya's palm softly as he closed his eyes, he felt shy. Exposed. Vulnerable. It scared him, but at the same time... Nothing could have made him feel more Human about it.

“And I... Meant what I said on Sôkyoku Hill.” He breathed, “I... Love you. It terrifies me but... I wouldn't change it for anything.”

Silence fell between them. Not uncomfortable or awkward, but peaceful and meaningful. Allowing them the time to simply look at one and other and take in all that they could see. Ichigo couldn't quite believe how joyful he felt in that moment, in fact he had experienced such an overwhelming conclave of emotions in just a few short minutes that he was sure his head and heart would explode with the effort to understand them all. But he knew that with Byakuya there, he could muddle through and make some sense of it all at his own pace. Because what Byakuya had given him, more than anything else, was time to learn to be himself.

“Your arm...” Ichigo said finally, staring at the unmoving left limb that rested on the bed.

“Was a necessary sacrifice.” The nobleman didn't follow his gaze, steel eyes remaining trained on Ichigo's face, “Your Hollow is powerful, determined, and a little bit scary when he wants to be.”

He felt Shiro's sudden flare of embarrassment and chuckled, “He's not to bad when you get to know him.”

“And have you?”

“I like to think we've made a good start.” He shrugged, “Shiro... He... He wants you to know that he's sorry. Truly sorry. He wants you to know that it was real, he was real... When he was acting as your guide, helping you, he meant all of it. He wanted to help, wanted to be good. When he reached my Inner World he was flooded with instinct and the need to consume. It took over. He never wanted to hurt you.”

“I suspected that was the case.” Byakuya murmured, searching Ichigo's eyes for a long moment, “Please assure him that he is... Forgiven.”

The surprising wave of relief he got from Shiro made his eyebrows raise, he found himself smiling small, “He's grateful. As is Zangetsu. As am I.”

“Do you remember much? Do you know any of what happened while I was traversing your Soul?”

“None of it until Zangetsu roused me when you battle with Shiro concluded. Was it terrible? I can't even imagine what my mind is capable of conjuring up.” He tilted his head to one side.

“It was... An experience.” Byakuya stared up into warm chestnut eyes, he seemed to be holding something back but Ichigo didn't want to press him on the matter, “I would do it all again if I was forced to.”

“While I appreciate the notion, let's leave it... At least a few days before we have another world ending catastrophe, eh?”

The Kuchiki heir laughed loudly at that, the sound warmed Ichigo right down into his toes and made him smile joyfully. The nobleman ended up holding his bandages as he panted for breath, but their smiles remained in place.

However, their peace was broken as the door slid open to reveal three familiar faces.

“Nii-sama!” Rukia was first, dashing into the room and hovering at her brother's bedside, hands clasped tightly as she seemed torn between hugging him and clasping his hands in hers.

“Taichou.” Renji followed after her, standing at the end of the bed with his arms folded over his chest, there was a small smile on his face, but Ichigo could see the relief in his friend's eyes.

“Byakuya-san! My, my it is a relief to see you awake!” Urahara came in behind Renji, fan fluttering softly in front of his goofy smile as he perched on the empty bed on the other side of the room, “You look quite well, considering everything.”

They devolved into meaningless chatter almost immediately, with Rukia and Renji both fussing over Byakuya and Ichigo respectively. Their conversations roamed various topics. Aizen's defection, the damage done to Seireitei, the costs of repair, the rumours circulating about Ichigo's actions on Sôkyoku Hill, and the future of the Goeti Thirteen.

“At the very least, I know where my future is.” Ichigo said quietly, hugging one knee up to his chest as he glanced at them all, “My future is right here, doing my best to help Soul Society, helping any way I can. I have no desire to be anywhere else.”

Urahara's eyes scanned Ichigo's face and he grinned, “We believe you.”

“And we will keep you on the straight and narrow, Ichigo.” Rukia said confidently, “Even if you struggle with your emotions as they return more and more, even if you struggle to interact with people, even if you have bad days... We are all here for you. You never have to be alone again.”

“Too right.” Renji nodded once in agreement, “And if you seem like you're drifting, you can be sure that I'll give you a solid punch back in the right direction.”

Smiling, the strawberry chuckled, “I know now that I can trust you all, I can put my faith in you to keep me good and honest. So, if you don't mind... I'll lean on you and learn to be a better version of myself. But even while I'm leaning on you, please lean on me too. If I can protect you, I will.”

“Just don't try to kill yourself again, please.” Urahara's voice as strangely stern as he fixed his pale grey eyes on the strawberry, “You are no good to anyone if you're dead, Kurosaki-san.”

“I'll do my best, Urahara-san!” He grinned sheepishly.

“You had best make sure you do.” Byakuya's tone easily matched Urahara's for seriousness, “I for one, do not have the stomach nor the heart to see you break again. So please, for the love of all things, start taking care of yourself. Powerful Hollow or not, you are not invincible.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I know.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “I promise. I'll be careful from now on.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Steel eyes warmed a little and Byakuya's lips twitched towards a smile.

* * *

It was some hours later, when Ichigo had returned to his own bed and fallen asleep through sheer exhaustion, that their guests began to funnel out of the room to give them both peace. Byakuya's gaze moved from the strawberry's relaxed features to the back of his Fukutaichou's head as Renji moved to leave.

“Abarai.” The noble winced when his voice came out harsher than he'd meant it to, “Renji?”

“Taichou?” The redhead paused in the doorway, peering around curiously, “Did you need something?”

The Kuchiki heir paused, hesitation was not something he enjoyed being gnawed by, “If you are not busy, would you perhaps give me a few moments of your time?”

Renji seemed to dither for a long moment before he turned to Rukia and asked her to go without him, at which point he then stepped back into the room and slid the door shut behind himself. He looked nervous, apprehensive. There was definitely an atmosphere hanging in the room between them.

If Byakuya was being truthful, there had been that atmosphere ever since the redhead had appeared with Rukia and Urahara. Not through any fault of his own, but mainly because it roused the memory of his battle with Renji's likeness within Ichigo's Inner World. The recognition he'd been bludgeoned with, the acknowledgement that he had been foul to his Fukutaichou. It had weighed heavily upon his shoulders, making it hard to meet Renji's gaze throughout his visit.

“Taichou?” The man's voice broke through Byakuya's revere, “Is everything alright? You... Don't seem yourself.”

Steel eyed slipped shut, a long sigh breaking free from between pursed lips as the nobleman forced himself to sit up. This was not a conversation he would have while flat on his back. His eyes flashed open when he felt hands on his shoulders, on his back. Renji was right in front of him, all concern and worry and thoughtless help. It choked him. Suffocated him.

After everything he'd ever done to break him... Renji still treated him with the respect his position demanded.

“Renji...” He said quietly, holding his head as high as he could bare as he met the man's warm gaze, “You have achieved Bankai, haven't you?”

The redhead's eyes flew wide, his mouth falling ajar as he spluttered, “I... How did...”

Byakuya looked down, “So it was true. It was real.”

“What are you...” Renji still seemed flustered, frowning faintly, “What was real?”

“I have spoken nothing of what I encountered in Ichigo's Inner World, uncertain of how much was mine to share. However, it appears that he knows nothing of my venture, save for the moment he was roused from slumber by his Zanpakutō.” The nobleman glanced at his sleeping lover for a brief moment, “I faced challenges, defence mechanisms, resistance. One of those defence mechanisms... Was you.”

“Me?” A blackened eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Indeed, it appears Ichigo holds you in high regard, more so than anyone realises. As his Inner World created a version of you to defend him.” His lips twitched, “You unleashed the power of your Bankai upon me in his Inner World. And I came to wonder if... You truly had such power at the tips of your fingers.”

Renji's back straightened just a little, “I understand. Ichigo is the only person who knows I reached Bankai. He was there when I finally did it, I begged him not to tell anyone.”

“Why would you hide such a gift?”

“Because of why I fought so hard to achieve it.” The redhead looked away.

Byakuya wetted his lips thoughtfully, “To prove to the world that a Rukon could do just as well as a noble.”

“You know about that?” Renji's face flushed.

“Yes, I know.” He paused, “Renji...”

A frown found his features as he found his head hanging. It was so hard to look him in the eye. Guilt weighed heavily in his heart.

“I am aware that over recent months our working relationship has improved a great deal, compared to what we were like when you first joined Division Six as my Fukutaichou.” He felt his throat scorch with bile as he saw Renji flinch, “I know that after Aizen's defection we spoke about your troubles and anxieties, and found some sense of comradeship through our worry about Ichigo's health.

“However, your likeness in Ichigo's Inner World was driven by one thing, and one thing only. Hatred. Hatred towards me. Hatred towards what I am. Hatred towards what I did to you. And I came to realise that despite our... Cordial relationship... I have never once tried to make amends.” He sucked in a breath and forced himself to meet Renji's gaze once more.

“It's true. I hated you.” The redhead said simply, “I hated you for taking Rukia away from me, I hated you for turning her into a prim and proper shadow of her former self, I hated you for looking down on me and believing you were better than me just because of birthright. I hated you, hated you so much that I unlocked my Bankai so that one day... I could use it against you, to show you that the monkey _can_ capture the moon.”

He felt chills rolling over his skin, leaving prickles and stood to attention hairs as he saw the lingering embers of rage in Renji's eyes. He had every right to feel that way. He had every right to loath his very existence. To hear his own words reflected at him, however, his shame was great.

“The story of the monkey trying to capture the moon. No matter how he struggles, it's just the moon's reflection on the water which he sees. So he only sinks into the water. Time after time... He sinks.” Byakuya said quietly, “Such arrogance, for me to have compared myself to the moon. To think so highly of myself to the disregard of everyone around me. You have every right to hate me, Renji. You have every right to wish pain and suffering upon me for the way I have treated you in the past. I would not blame you. I would not hold it against you. I would have earned it.”

Renji seemed to mellow, surprise replacing his ire as his shoulders slowly slackened and his muscles seemed to lose their tension, “I have seen your cruel streak. I have felt the coldness of your indifference. I have seen the raw harshness of your grief when you believed Ichigo beyond saving. And now... Now I look at you and I see a man who regrets.”

“You see a great deal, Renji.”

“Not as much as Ichigo. He has always had better eyes than me. He sees what people don't want to show, he sees right down into their core and pulls it out for the world to witness.” He smiled faintly, glancing at the sleeping strawberry, “He sees the good in you. And now, so do I.”

“With your talents, your skill and your drive... Do you desire to remain in Division Six? Do you wish to remain as my Fukutaichou?” Byakuya asked softly, “I won't go easy on you, Renji. I see your potential now, and I want to help you achieve everything you rightfully deserve. But I can understand if you no longer have the faith in me to allow it.”

“Kuchiki Taichou,” Renji's eyes seemed to bore straight into his very Soul for a moment, “Despite everything we have ever been through, the bad and the good, there had been no where I'd rather be than at your side in Division Six.”

His mouth dried at the sincerity of his words, and he began to feel some of his dishonor and disgrace lessen, “Then... Even if I say it only once, Renji Abarai... I am sorry for the past. You deserve to be treated with the respect you have earned. Should you be willing to give me a second chance, as your Taichou and your... Friend, I would very much like to give you that respect.”

The younger man seemed to suck in a deep breath, as if a weight of his own was being lifted in the moment, he broke into a toothy smile, “I'm willing.”

“You have my most earnest thanks.” The nobleman whispered, “With that said and done, I thank you for your time. If you wish to catch up to Rukia, please feel free.”

“Taichou.” Renji bowed his head once and hurried to the door, sliding it open eagerly before he stopped and looked over his shoulder, “Taichou... Whether it's arrogance or not, you _are_ the moon, and I will always been the monkey trying to reach you. But I don't think it matters anymore.”

“And why is that?” He asked.

The redhead shrugged, “Because moon or not, you've met your match in Ichigo.”

Byakuya remained silent, watching as the redheaded Shinigami left the room, sliding the door shut behind him before he disappeared completely from sight. The Kuchiki heir leaned back against his pillows, mulling over Renji's parting words as he slowly peered over at Ichigo's sleeping form. There was an eerie truth to Renji's words, a truth he couldn't deny.

He had met his match.

“There's no one in all three worlds I'd rather acknowledge as my true equal.” He whispered to himself.


	27. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With both Ichigo and Byakuya on the mend, the pair spend some much needed quality time together, and Ichigo makes a decision about what he wants to do next with his life.

Ichigo sat up in bed, finally he felt good. Better than he had for a while. His body ached from disuse, and he found himself longing to be released from Division Four so that he could return to a regular schedule of training and work. He hated being cooped up for so long with nothing to do, especially when it felt like his energy had fully returned at long last.

His eyes drifted to the other side of his room, scanning the other bed, Byakuya was sat up finishing some of the reports Renji had delivered. The bandages around his chest were gone, replaced by thinner strips of gauze to keep his healing wounds clean and sterile, but the binding around his left arm remained tightly in place, a silent reminder of what had been sacrificed.

It had been a little over a month since Aizen's defection. Time seemed to move crookedly while he was trapped inside sterile walls of muted shades.

Unohana was nothing if not thorough with her treatment, refusing to allow either of them to leave until she was completely content with their progress. It had roused the ire of both men, but a single smile from her had silenced their complaints permanently.

Throwing the covers back, Ichigo shuffled around until his legs were hanging off the bed, the feeling of the cold floor under his feet was a relief and he carefully applied pressure, getting to his up with a hushed groan of delight. It was so good to move around.

He plodded over to the window and rested forwards against the sill, allowing his forehead to rest against the glass as he peered out over the gardens behind their room, the soft tock of a bamboo water feature occasionally reached his ears, but apart from that there was silence.

The only positive thing about Unohana refusing to release him, was that she had also forbidden the Stealth Force from questioning him about his involvement with Aizen. The memory of Yoruichi's words lingered, he knew his name had been kept out of everything. He'd been cleared as an unfortunate victim of Aizen's manipulation.

Yet, something didn't settle right with the lie. It was lying and cheating the system which had got him so deeply entrapped before. He wasn't eager for a repeat performance, even if it was currently saving his life and his freedom. There was a confusingly powerful part of him that wanted to come clean. About everything. He'd face the music, accept the punishment, but then he could start over. Start again. But if it was decided that he should be executed, everything would be wasted. His sacrifice, Byakuya's sacrifice... Would be for nothing.

A groan escaped him and he allowed his head to slide down until it rested on his arms. Emotions truly were confusing. He no longer had to take the modified Gikon Urahara had crafted, after all the danger was gone. He could be himself, whoever that was. He could start peeling back the layers of his personality, layers that had been buried first by his emotionless state, and secondly by the drug.

A small smile tugged at his lips, despite the current turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. It stilled puzzled and amazed him just how much he was capable of feeling now. Yes, everything was a cluster of confusing and mind boggling emotions. But there burning brightly amidst them all was the love he now felt. That scorching sensation he'd believed himself incapable of.

A shy glance towards the noble made his heart thunder and his breath catch. He didn't even have the shame to stop staring when steel eyes met his chestnut ones, he was beyond embarrassment now, all he felt was acceptance and understanding.

“You have been staring at me for quite some time now, Ichigo, should I be concerned?” The noble asked, silken tones lined with amusement.

“Mm. Definitely.” He purred, walking over slowly and perching on the edge of the man's bed.

“I see.” Byakuya smirked faintly, setting his papers down on the table next to him, “And what might be on your mind?”

Leaning in slowly, soft lips brushed together in an almost chaste kiss, Ichigo sighed gently and allowed his eyes to roam over the pale face in front of him, “How much I want you.”

They had tried. More than once in fact. Just days after Byakuya had finally woken from his sleep, there had been relief; joy; sadness; anxiety and it had all melded together in a tight ball of sexual frustration between them. A deep set need for each other. But it seemed that Unohana was proficient at sensing changes in their reiatsu, and every time they tried to sate the burning urge she had appeared, scolding them and threatening to put them in separate rooms.

It was like a cruel form of foreplay.

“As soon as we are allowed to leave,” Byakuya nipped gently at Ichigo's bottom lip, “I will have you in my bed until you beg for mercy.”

“I never beg.” He breathed, face warming as the noble's words sent a heavy zing of excitement to his crotch.

“Oh you will.”

The promise was enough to make him moan, forcing a heavier, deeper kiss on the man, tangling his fingers in long locks of hair. The kiss was exaggerated, drawn out and reluctantly parted from as both men drew in shaky breaths.

Ichigo made his way back over to his own bed, not trusting himself to remain close at the risk of Unohana's wrath. He lay back against the pillows and prised his white yukata open just slightly, raising his fingers to the puckered scar in the centre of his chest, a permanent reminder of Gin's blade. He couldn't bring himself to regret it, no matter how much it had almost cost him.

“I was thinking,” he said suddenly, “Maybe when we're let out of here we could take another trip to Karakura town.”

“Oh?”

“I'd like to...” He paused, “I'd like to learn more about where I actually come from.”

The strawberry wasn't sure when the idea had first come to mind, but it had been hot in the back of his skull for weeks. He was a confusing blend of things that should never have integrated in the first place. He was a Human Shinigami with Hollow powers. And yet he knew so little of his Human life, mere trickles of his memory had returned and he longed for more. Even if it was painful, he needed to know. Wanted to know.

Did he have any family left? Anyone outside of his immediate relations? Did he have friends who were still around?

It raised a lot of complications. If he was remembering correctly, he had been in Soul Society for almost twenty six years. Which meant that any friends he'd had as a Human child would be adults, would be fully grown and maybe even have families of their own. And yet the curiosity burned into him like a brand.

“I'm sure we can arrange something.” Byakuya's voice yanked him from his thoughts.

“Really?” He was surprised, he'd expected a refusal.

“Of course.” The noble smiled slightly, “You deserve to know your place in the world.”

Letting out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, he allowed his head to flop back as a happy smile etched it's way onto his face. Perhaps Urahara and Yoruichi would be able to assist him in tracking down people he would have known, even if he couldn't remember them, a picture could jog his memory.

After so long of missing so much, he just wanted to be complete again.

Byakuya watched as Ichigo fell asleep, his excitement at the prospect of investigating his past apparently too much, despite all his claims that he was fully healed. The noble's smile slipped from its' position as he picked up his paperwork again, scrawling his signature in the necessary places.

He paused as he came to the end of the pile and released a small sigh. It would be complicated for Ichigo to track down people he might have known as a child. While his Human friends would likely have grown up and gone onto have families, Ichigo still looked like a young man, ageing slowed by his Shinigami powers.

Then there was the idea of him remembering every inch of his past, he wasn't sure the younger man would cope with it very well. They had spoken at length, of course, during their recovery. Byakuya had explained the trials of Ichigo's Inner World, the puzzles, the fights, the betrayal of Shiro. The noble found it hard to hold a grudge against the Hollow, even more so when Ichigo explained why he'd changed so much and become so aggressive.

He wanted to hate him, but he couldn't manage it. Just as he couldn't manage to tell Ichigo about the night his family had died, just as he couldn't manage to reveal that Ichigo was somehow related to one of the most powerful noble families in Seireitei. It was still confusing, and he had no idea how to broach the subject. He was merely glad that the painful memories hadn't resurfaced on their own in Ichigo's mind.

Certainly, it would bite him on the ass when the strawberry finally did remember, but for the time being he just couldn't bring himself to break his lover's heart. The truth was too cold, too hard, too bitter. It would have to wait. Ichigo was still fragile.

His eyes drifted down to his left hand where it lay at his side. His mouth sealed in a tight line as he tried again to make his fingers move, but to no avail. It had been truly foolish to use such a highly powered Kidō against an enemy like Shiro, but at the time it had felt like the only option. The price for the spell was great, and Unohana had informed him that it was likely he would never regain the use of his left limb.

He had limited sensation, he could feel Ichigo's touch if he held his hand, he could feel temperature changes through the bandages. But the pain receptors were severed, and his ability to move it was gone. Had he used the Kidō in the real world he most likely would have lost the arm completely. He wasn't sure which outcome was better.

The only comfort was in knowing that the loss wouldn't affect his swordsmanship. Senbonzakura was easily controlled by his mind, despite the movement speed increasing if he used his hands to take control. But while he still had one working hand, he could still fight with all his strength.

Kidō which required two hands, however, would be an issue. Though he was determined to find a way to work things in his favour. He wasn't counted among the Kidō Masters for nothing. Adapting was part of life, change had never been something he was a fan of, but altering because he had no other choice was simply a part of survival. He could cope with that.

* * *

It was another week before Unohana finally allowed them their freedom. Their first intentions upon their release was to finally celebrate being alive, but their plans to go back to the Kuchiki Estate had been thwarted by Yamamoto's demands that Ichigo be presented before the Taichou for questioning.

Byakuya had been almost murderous, but had maintained his decorum as Ichigo stood in the centre of the ten remaining leaders of Seireitei. He knew the turmoil of Ichigo's heart, how much he wanted to come clean and start over again, but he also knew the strawberry would refrain from going through with it, if nothing else because it would get more people in trouble.

He couldn't help but feel proud when he watched his lover face off with some of the most imposing figures of their society, holding his head high as he answered their questions with a reserved truth. Never flinching, never hesitating.

The noble could tell that his fellow Taichou were nervous about Ichigo's display of Hollow power. It was a big deal. He could feel their reservations, their concerns, their worries. He was sure for a while that they were contemplating exile, if nothing else but to protect the citizens. It seemed that his voice, as well as the voices of Kyōraku and Ukitake, turned the tide in Ichigo's favour.

Ichigo was strong, they could all see that, they could all sense it. It was far better to have him on their side, than for him to be allowed to wander off and potentially be stolen by the enemy. Byakuya was sure that one of the only things which truly swung their opinions in favour of Ichigo being useful, was the news that he hadn't been exposed to Aizen's Shikai. Which was more than could be said for the rest of them.

It was apparently due to the real power of Kyoka Suigetsu that Yamamoto had been kept away from Sôkyoku Hill during the battle. Aizen's reach was vast, his ability to manipulate even the Sou-Taichou had stunned them all. Byakuya was sure that was why Yamamoto decided not to pursue anything further against Ichigo, at least for the time being.

When the meeting had finally drawn to an end, he left along side his subordinate and lover, lingering only long enough to request they be allowed some time in the World of the Living for personal reasons. Initially it seemed that Yamamoto would deny the request, but the man seemed to change his mind at the last minute, agreeing on the conditions that they stayed together and didn't go off alone. It was an easy promise to make.

* * *

Ichigo stretched in a long line as they finally came to stand outside of the Kuchiki mansion, grinning exuberantly at the feeling of freedom that he was finally able to enjoy. He allowed the noble to lead him inside, greeting some of the attendants he recognised with a wave or a nod of the head, he received a few murmured expressions of happiness that he was healthy again, and for their concern he was truly grateful.

“We will leave for Karakura town tomorrow morning,” Byakuya said as he nudged the bedroom door open, “I'll have someone send a message to Urahara, I believe he returned there himself a few days ago.”

“Sounds good.” The strawberry shut the door behind him and leaned against it, letting out a small breath, “It feels like forever since we were last here.”

“Mm.” The noble brushed his fingers over the plush bedding which had been changed in their absence, “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine.” He said with a shrug as he let his head tip back, “Just glad to be out of Unohana's grasp for a while.”

There was a coy smile on Byakuya's face at his response, he seemed to be of the same opinion, “Indeed, she is an excellent healer, and a kind woman. However, she is something of a slave driver.”

“I used to think the same thing about you.” The strawberry confessed, “Not that I mind being ordered around every now and again.”

Ichigo chuckled softly to himself and finally moved away from the door, moving towards the noble. He stopped at his side, reaching up and gently brushing stray strands of hair out of his face; he couldn't help but notice that Byakuya's signature kenseikan were missing again.

“Why aren't you wearing them?” He found the words slipping from his lips before he could stop them, a small frown tugging at his brow.

Byakuya clasped Ichigo's hand in his and smiled faintly, “When I believed I had lost you... I felt a great sense of loss. Not only for your life but for my pride. I swore, on my pride, that I would free you from Aizen's grasp, only for you to die before I had the chance. I was a failure, and failure is not something the Head of the Kuchiki family can be. I didn't feel that I could adequately represent my family.”

“What?” He breathed, scowl deepening, “That's... You _did_ save me. Completely. First when you gave me the option of freedom, and then when you gave me time to realise what I wanted, and then even more so when you refused to fear me for being what I am. You have saved me, Byakuya. And I am grateful.”

The noble blinked, surprise touching his expression as he tried to find the words to respond, “I... Didn't think of it like that.”

“You surprise me, you normally think of everything.” He smirked, “If you don't start wearing them again I might see fit to give us matching hair cuts while you sleep.”

Looking mildly mortified at the suggestion, Byakuya sighed, “Very well. But not now.”

Ichigo was content with that, after all, the hair pieces would simply get in the way. He chuckled to himself as he leaned in, draping his arms around strong shoulders as he leaned in for a kiss, nibbling teasingly at the noble's lips before plunging his tongue inside, making sure there was no confusion about what he wanted.

A groan was roused from the noble, right hand rising to lace his fingers in his lover's shaggy orange locks, turning them sharply and pushing the younger man down onto his bed, climbing over him as he felt quivering fingers tugging his shihakusho open shamelessly.

There was a low moan of arousal shared between them, bodies tangling together as need overrode everything else, clothes being pulled away with greater urgency and more need, falling loosely on the floor beside the bed until they were both completely naked.

Panting heavily, Ichigo looked up at the noble, noticing how he was forced to prop himself up on his right hand alone while the left remained drooped at his side. He felt a tingle of pity daring to flutter around the corners of his heated desire, but he pushed it aside. Byakuya's pride would be dented severely if he ever felt he was being pitied, by anyone.

Instead, a devious smile touched at his lips as he rolled them, straddling himself over the noble and capturing his lips once again, tongue dancing against his before he peppered taunting kisses down his throat, groaning as his lover tilted his head back, permitting him greater access to the long line of his neck.

He splayed his fingers out over the man's chest, dragging his mouth down further, lapping lazily at the faded scar on his shoulder, and across to the fresher marks on his abdomen. There was a small part of him which felt guilty for the puckers which had marred his otherwise pristine flesh, and yet as he listened to Byakuya's breath catching with each lick, he knew the other man wouldn't have it any other way. He knew Byakuya would have sacrificed everything to see him safe, and a few battle wounds were nothing in comparison to him upholding his word.

The strawberry nibbled softly at the soft skin above his naval, enjoying the gasp of pleasure he received for the action. He smiled to himself as he bit and sucked at his skin, leaving flushing marks in his wake. It was so different to everything he was used to. He was used to the rushed haste of a stress relieving fuck, the roughness and the dispassionate fumbling, the knowledge that he was never in control of what was done. But this was pleasant, there was urgency and need, but it was pushed aside with the desire to enjoy every sensation possible. They were equals.

He paused at the thought, eyes moving up to stare at the flushed but graceful face of the man he was sat astride of. They weren't equals in the eyes of society. Byakuya was a nobleman, he was just a commoner from Rukongai. Byakuya was a Taichou, he was a mere Third Seat. But _emotionally_ they couldn't have been more equal.

“Are you alright?” Byakuya's voice was strained, but still full of consideration.

“I'm fine.” He whispered, nipping at his hip playfully, “Just appreciating you.”

Seemingly content with the answer he was given, the noble tried to sit up to lull him into a kiss, but Ichigo's hands pushed him back down, smirking at the faintly glazed appearance of the other's eyes. There was a certain excitement in knowing that he could undo the man with a few licks and nips.

He dipped his body lower, settling between his lover's legs as his lips trailed down the rest of their journey, coming to rest on the heated flesh of Byakuya's cock, he heard a soft hiss of pleasure as he began teasing him with his teeth, capturing him in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive tip. He groaned from deep in his throat as shaky fingers threaded into his hair, the grip tight but not painful.

Ichigo tortured him with deliberate and slow movements, taking his time to enjoy the sounds and sights he was presented with. He almost came undone himself when he engulfed his erection fully, watching the noble's hazy eyes widen dramatically as his lips parted to release a particularly sensual growl of pleasure.

When Ichigo couldn't take it any longer, and crawled up the length of his lover's body, straddling his lap and grunting softly as their arousals rubbed. Tilting his head as he felt fingers massage one of his buttocks, he bit his lip, gripping the wrist firmly as he pinned it above the noble's head, watching mild confusion trickle into the otherwise lust empowered expression.

“Just lay back, and enjoy it.” He whispered, swiping the shell of the noble's ear with the tip of his tongue.

“Ngh-” Byakuya was still struggling to think clearly and panted softly, “I... Don't want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.”

The strawberry kissed him sweetly on the lips, reaching back as he urged two of his own fingers inside his body, thrusting hastily to relax the tight coil of muscle. He knew he should take his time to prepare, it had been a while and Byakuya wasn't exactly small but... He couldn't stand to wait any longer. Ichigo's head rolled back, a loud mewl escaping him as he replaced his fingers with Byakuya's length. The feeling of blissful fulfilment sent shivers through his entire body.

They both moaned in unison, Ichigo quivering as he relaxed against the intrusion, face flooding with colour as he sat up, teasingly digging his nails into the taut stomach beneath him as he began rocking his hips.

He knew they probably wouldn't last long, it was too vital. Too pressing. The need had been building for weeks. He didn't care. Ichigo allowed himself to sink into the feeling of excitement, arousal and pleasure, jaw slackened as he released strings of moans and mewls which echoed Byakuya's.

Sparks of blinkered stars flashed in his vision as the raven haired man beneath him began moving beneath his body. Strong hips jerking upwards to meet his movements, coiling muscles and flexing tendons moving in tandem. His breath stuttered, sharp cries replacing subtle moans as his prostate was struck over and over with repeated accuracy.

Head thrown back as his body tensed, the heat of his orgasm hitting him with almost no warning, his hips thrusting with urgency as he rode out the blissful warmth. It was undoubtedly one of the best he'd ever had, the sort that left him twitching and jerking as he collapsed down onto Byakuya's chest, listening lethargically as the nobleman released a sharp groan of pleasure. The hot harshness of the man's climax made Ichigo purr lazily.

They slumped together, barely containing the energy to part as they sank into the comfortable softness of the bed. Both men panting softly in the amber light afterglow of a union they'd both desperately needed. Ichigo curled up as close as he could, feeling an arm encircling him protectively. He smiled sheepishly, eyes slipping closed as he let out a small sigh of contentment, more than happy to doze off into a wonderfully sex induced slumber.


	28. Mid-Day Rambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo opens up to Byakuya about something personal, and an awkwardly timed arrival at the Kuchiki Estate forces Byakuya to return the favour, and open up to Ichigo.

It was hard to say how long they napped for -although it was likely only a few hours- and never once moved away from each other as the warmth of their bodies kept them content. Though eventually, Byakuya nudged his way into a series of soft, lazy kisses which roused the strawberry haired male in his embrace.

As his eyes fluttered open, Ichigo sucked in a happy gasp at the sight of Byakuya's frazzled appearance. Hair ruffled, cheeks still tinged pink, love bites trailing down his chest. It was satisfying to know it was all his own work.

“Has your Inner World fully repaired yet?” The noble asked softly, nuzzling soft locks of orange.

“Mostly.” Was the mumbled reply as Ichigo slid an arm around his waist, “Things are going faster now that Zangetsu and Shiro are working together though.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” He let out a small breath, “At the time, I didn't consider the danger of damaging the area so severely.”

“Mm, it is so unlike you to charge headlong into something without thinking it through first.”

A smile tugged lightly, “True enough. Though, nothing about me has been normal since you stepped foot into my Division.”

Chestnut eyes lifted and Ichigo propped himself up on his elbow, allowing his fingers to brush a long line up and down the man's ribs, “I owe you everything. My life, my freedom, my feelings. If you had behaved any differently, if you had been uncaring about my situation... I'd probably be with him now.”

Swallowing, Byakuya pulled him down into a kiss, “Shush now. What ifs will drive you to distraction. Focus on what is and what will be. He never deserved you, and eventually you would have realised it for yourself.”

They shared a look, both knowing that he was wrong, though neither of them hastened to point it out. Ichigo had been so far down the rabbit hole it had been almost impossible to find his way out even with help. He would never have managed it alone.

Ichigo licked his lips, mind mulling over the recent events, “I... I wanted to talk to you about something. It might seem odd though...”

“You can ask me anything, no matter how bizarre.” Came the immediate reply.

Brushing some of his lover's dark hair away from his eyes, the Third Seat considered his words, “When I joined Shino... My highest grades were always in combat. Swordsmanship and hand to hand. This is complicated,” he sat up and allowed his legs to hang off the side of the bed, “When we were presented with Asauchi and told to begin training with them something changed...”

“Changed?”

“I... Was among the first to forge my Zanpakutō, my teachers weren't surprised because of my reiatsu. When I fought someone, whether it was another student or a teacher-”

“You fought your teachers?” Byakuya interrupted, instantly murmuring an apology.

Ichigo nodded once, “I was advanced, so occasionally I was permitted to train with them, as well as seated officers of the Goeti.” He explained, sighing as he returned to his point, “When I fought against another Zanpakutō I used to get a sense... A... Feeling. Ironic, I know.”

“What sort of feeling?” The nobleman sat up slowly, listening with interest.

“It's hard to describe it... It varied from person to person, sword to sword.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I remember fighting Renji once, all I could feel was his anger. His determination to keep getting stronger. He wanted to show that he could be something more. Rukia was similar... She wanted to prove herself worthy of your attention. She was desperate to show that she was competent enough to be considered a Kuchiki...”

Frowning, the Kuchiki heir considered what Ichigo was saying. He'd rarely heard anything similar from other Shinigami. Not that he was surprised by that, Ichigo was unique. He always would be.

“When I joined Division Six and we trained together I could feel you.” Ichigo whispered, his eyes glazing over as he thought back, “I could feel your pride, your determination, your need to uphold the law. But beneath the layers, there was more... A deep longing. A sadness you couldn't get rid of. It felt like grief.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Byakuya asked softly, he didn't want him to stop even though it felt odd to be perceived so clearly through combat alone.

Swallowing, Ichigo clenched his fingers in the bedsheets, “I felt Gin... And Tōsen... Even when Shiro was in control I could feel something. Gin... It was like he wasn't really looking at me, it wasn't me he wanted to fight but I couldn't tell who it really was. Tōsen was... Overwhelmed with the need to bring justice to the world, he feels like by reshaping the world with Aizen he can help cut injustice out of it along the way...”

The Division Six Taichou couldn't help but agree that Tōsen's ideals sounded about right, although his perspective of Gin seemed strange. Perhaps time would tell if he was right or wrong. He remained silent, he could see the tension in Ichigo's shoulders, the muscles looked tight and uncomfortable, as if he was weighed down by something great, something heavy.

“I can't feel anything from Aizen's sword.” He whispered, “Kyoka Suigetsu... It's like a void. An empty space. Somewhere just out of my reach.”

“You actively tried?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted to understand him. Understand his motivations. Whenever we trained together I always tried to sense something, no matter how small but there was... Nothing. For the longest time I thought maybe I was mad, or maybe it was my imagination with everyone else but... After Sôkyoku Hill, after seeing what he's capable of... How strong he is...” He gulped, “You know... He blocked Zangetsu with one finger?”

“What?”

“Mm. I attacked him in his quarters when he was torturing Renji, I felt so powerful... Stronger than I had ever felt before. But I swung Zangetsu around, I was ready to kill him... My sword stopped. And I saw him, holding one finger up.” Pausing for a moment he let out a small breath, “I wonder if I can't sense anything because he's so much stronger than me. Maybe... I can only read people I'm on a level with... I wonder if that will ever change...”

“Ichigo...”

“Sorry...” The strawberry chuckled weakly, “I know it sounds weird... Stupid even. It's just been playing on my mind since I woke up. I wonder if anyone has ever understood him.”

“I doubt it.” Byakuya said honestly, “Someone who hides themselves as well as Aizen doesn't want to be understood. I doubt anyone alive is capable of doing so. What you've described to me is something I have never heard of... I'm not sure there is another Shinigami alive who can do what you do in battle. Perhaps it comes from your Humanity... Your compassion.”

“Maybe.” He looked around and broke into a shy smile, “Sorry for running my mouth... I just wanted to get it off my chest.”

“You can always talk to me, Ichigo.” Byakuya reached out and gently pulled him back down on the bed, holding him close, “You never have to hide anything from me.”

They fell quite, Ichigo nestled under the nobleman's chin affectionately, his fingers tracing unseen swirls against his pale skin. The strawberry couldn't help but admire how his slightly more tanned complexion seemed somewhat pleasant resting alongside Byakuya's paler one. It brought a smile to his face, as well as more questions.

“Where do we go from here?” The strawberry asked.

Byakuya hesitated, it was a complex question. Eventually, his family would have to be told about his relationship, despite knowing they would likely be disapproving and possibly even try to sabotage it. It wasn't something he could hide forever, nor something he wanted to hide. He wasn't ashamed of Ichigo, he wasn't ashamed of himself. But _they_ might be.

“Once we return from the World of the Living I will have to address the Kuchiki Elders about us.” He stated, frowning faintly at the concerns it raised, “They will likely be displeased... They may try to separate us.”

“They'd go that far?”

“They did with Hisana.” He muttered, his tone faintly bitter at the memory, “They also tried to divorce us when it became apparent we wouldn't be able to have an heir.”

“Bastards.” Ichigo hissed, clenching his teeth, “How can they do that? It was obvious how much you loved her, I can't believe they'd be so cold.”

“Coldness is a family trait.” The noble's lips twitched slightly before turning downwards, “I assure you, I will fight them just as hard this time as I did then. I never want you to think that I feel less for you than I did for her.”

The younger man blinked, “I appreciate it but... I've never thought that. I never would.”

Byakuya wasn't sure why that comforted him so much, he hadn't even realised it had been troubling him until the words had tumbled out, he chuckled gently and pulled his lover closer, tangling their legs together comfortably as he nuzzled his neck, leaving a faint mark against his skin which would fade easily.

Their moment of peace was disturbed by a knock at the bedroom door, Ichigo was sure he saw Byakuya scowl before his expression returned neutral and he slid from the bed with a definitive reluctance.

“What is it?” He asked as he pulled on a simple yukata from the wardrobe.

Simple was an overstatement, it was simple only in comparison to the flash of various others Ichigo caught sight of, navy blue with a faint silver embroidery which swirled like mini suns.

“Forgive the intrusion, Kuchiki-sama.” There was a small voice from the other side of the door, one of the attendants, “Norio-dono is here, he wishes to speak with you.”

Byakuya's back stiffened slightly and he released an almost silent growl of annoyance, “Please show him to the library, I will speak to him there.”

“Yes, Kuchiki-sama.” The sound of soft footsteps was the only indication that the attendant had gone.

“Who's Norio?” Ichigo asked from his position on the bed.

“One of the Elders.” Was the muttered response, “That is to say... He is the Head Elder.”

“An important person then?” He sat up slowly, wincing only faintly at the dull ache in the base of his spine, “Would it be easier for me to sneak out?”

Eyes flashing to his face, Byakuya shook his head immediately, “Not at all, if anything it would simply seem suspicious, he is rather gifted at sensing reiatsu and will already know you are here.”

“Is it going to cause you a problem?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I... Am uncertain.” He admitted, “I suppose it depends on the reason for his visit.”

“A lot of people saw how you were with me on Sôkyoku Hill, and we both know how fast gossip travels around here.” The strawberry sighed into his hand, “How do you want to play this?”

“I don't know.” Byakuya said candidly, “But I have to go and see him, otherwise he will come up here and get me. He's done it before.”

“Yikes.” He pulled a face and slowly slid out of bed, pulling his shihakusho on and trying to tame his wild bed hair, “I'll head down to the kitchen, make some snacks for when you're finished. Not sure about you, but I've worked up an appetite.”

The noble chuckled and reeled him in for a kiss, “Sounds good, thank you.”

With a sigh, the raven haired man pecked him on the cheek and left the room, door ajar so that Ichigo could follow when he was ready. His arrival at the library came far sooner than he would have liked, he took a long moment to prepare himself for the man who was on the other side of the door, determined not to be intimidated in his own home.

Byakuya opened the door and stepped inside, faintly hearing footsteps on the staircase behind him and sensing Ichigo going to the kitchen as he'd said he would. It was a relief that the strawberry wouldn't come barging in and potentially make things worse, not that he minded his brashness but there was a certain tact required for dealing with the Elders.

His eyes came to rest on Norio, the man hadn't changed in the last ten years. His waist length black hair was pulled back in a long braid, a single kenseikan at his left temple to register his position as the Head Elder of the Kuchiki family, his eyes were blue and narrowed, a thin scar etched across his nose from a training accident. He was, in fact, only four years older than Byakuya, but his wisdom; his strength and his political nous had secured him the position of Head Elder despite his youth.

“Byakuya-sama.” His voice was chilled, condescending almost.

“Norio.” Byakuya matched the tone, “What can I do for you?”

“I just thought I should come and see how you are doing, you were in Division Four for quite a while and Retsu-san refused to allow me entry.” He brushed his hand over one of the bookshelves, tekkō gloves similar to Byakuya's, except they were black and they covered his index and middle fingers.

“Ah, I see, a social call then.” He relaxed slightly, “I am in good health. My injuries have healed and I am regaining my strength.”

“Well, it is good to hear that I suppose.” He didn't sound overly concerned, “And the arm?”

He felt his jaw click as it set in a hard line, it was hard not to glance down at the limb which was still so conspicuously bandaged, “Extensive nerve and tissue damage. It will never be the same again.” He wasn't bitter about it; in the end his actions, no matter how brash, had saved Ichigo and that was something he could never regret.

“A pity.” There was that same lack of interest, fingers still trailing across the spines of the many books, “Who is your friend?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your friend. The one who was upstairs. His reiatsu isn't familiar to me.” Thin eyebrows raised a little.

Byakuya clenched the fingers of his working hand but forced his expression to remain calm, it wouldn't do to lose his temper in front of the man, “While I am certain it is not your business, he is my Third Seat.”

“So you are mixing business with pleasure now? Interesting.” Norio dropped his hands to his sides and approached cautiously, “Is he the one everyone has been talking about? The Hollow?”

“He is not a Hollow.” He said bluntly, wishing he was taller so that he could glare down at the Elder, “He is unique.”

“Hm, they have been saying all sorts of things about him...” The blue eyed Kuchiki trailed off as if expecting a response, when he didn't receive one he continued, “I've heard rumours that he managed to fight off two Taichou in that recent unpleasantness, turned into a Hollow and battled an Arrancar, and then nearly died, whereupon a certain nobleman saw fit to kiss him in public.”

“How dull your work must be for you to listen to such fantastic tales.” His eyes had narrowed considerably, “My business is my own, Norio. Unless there was anything else you wanted to discuss I suggest you leave, I have to prepare for a mission in the World of the Living tomorrow. I am quite busy.”

Norio released a small huff, “Just remember, you set an example for this family, people look to you for guidance. It is time you found a new wife, settled down and produced an heir, as your position requires.”

“Get out.” He breathed, opening the library door, “When I desire to hear your thoughts on my personal life... I shall ask you for them.”

Byakuya glowered as he watched the Head Elder stalk from the room, only to walk straight into Ichigo who had been carrying a tray of food towards the stairs. It was truly poor timing as the strawberry haired Third Seat hit the floor, somehow managing to maintain the balance of the tray and prevent food spilling over his lap.

Norio's eyes fell on Ichigo like he'd trodden in something before his eyes flicked to Byakuya, “Tch. What is it with you and collecting Rukongai Dogs so willingly?”

“What did you call me?” Ichigo spluttered, picking himself up with a small wince, “Do you have a problem, _sir_?”

“Several, and one of them is staring me in the face.” He responded coldly.

“That is a pity.” The strawberry murmured and offered a curt bow to the Elder, “My apologies for my clumsiness. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is Ichigo Kurosaki.”

Byakuya felt mildly impressed by Ichigo's ability to pull on that mask. It was the same mask he'd worn while using Urahara's Gikon, except now it was all Ichigo's own work instead. He wasn't certain even he would have the stomach to remain so polite when spoken down to so rudely. Only the Soul King knew how Renji had never tried to batter him for his rudeness.

Arching one perfect eyebrow, Norio quickly discerning a deep dislike for the boy, “You _are_ from Rukongai. Aren't you?”

“I spent most of my childhood there, yes.” Ichigo replied, voice never losing its polite edge, “Why do you ask?”

“I merely amazes me that another commoner thinks that they can slither into our family without a problem. I'm afraid I am unwilling to allow that to happen again, Hisana was an inconvenience enough without another one troubling us. A male commoner at that. It is almost as if you dislike your position, Byakuya-sama.” A calculating eye found Byakuya's face.

“I will not have you address a guest of mine in such a manner. Get out Norio. Now!” He barked, anger increasing ten fold.

“I will address this... _Dog_ however I desire to.” He snorted indignantly, “How do you intent to provide this family with an heir when you continue to rub shoulders with filth? How many times will you risk the future of this family, for the sake of a roll in the hay with peasants?”

“Get OUT!” Byakuya's voice raised to a shout.

“The Council of Elders _will_ be hearing about this,” Norio's gaze fixed on Ichigo once more, “So don't get your feet too far under the table, Dog.”

Ichigo remained still, frowning faintly as the man made a point of bumping into him as he walked across the foyer, only releasing the sigh he'd built up when he heard the front door slam shut. He shook his head and glanced at the tray in his hands, he hadn't been spoken to like that for a very long time.

“Well, that was entirely horrible.” The strawberry muttered, not entirely sure how he'd managed to prevent himself lashing out.

“I am sorry.” Byakuya's voice was tight and stiff, he was still frozen on the spot, “You shouldn't have had to experience that.”

“It's fine, I've heard worse.” He shrugged, “Is he always that stuck up? Because seriously... I thought you were bad, but if he's like that all the time then I can kind of understand why you've had a stick up your ass all these years.”

A joyless smile touched the noble's face before he huffed, “He wasn't always like that, he has changed dramatically over the last few years. He is bitter, however.”

“Bitter?” He repeated, “What, because you're getting your leg over?”

“Hardly.” Byakuya gestured to the stairs, “Let's go back to bed, I'll explain more when we're settled.”

“Alright.” Ichigo smiled weakly and hurried up the stairs with him, trying not to let the Elders' words get to him.

He found himself staring at Byakuya's back as they walked, suddenly realising just how irritated Norio must have made him because... He'd rarely heard Byakuya raise his voice to anyone before. He was always so calm, so collected, so... Distant.

Was it wrong that the sight of that anger excited him?

Settling on the bed, they were quiet for what felt like ages, picking at the snacks Ichigo had prepared. Byakuya was releasing regular sighs, shoulders slumped slightly in an unusual expression of nervousness.

“So, you said that guy wasn't always an asshole?” Ichigo tried breaking the silence.

“Yes,” the noble nodded, “We grew up together, he is my cousin. He loathes the fact that I became the Head of the Kuchiki household instead of him.”

“I thought the succession of your family was fairly straight forwards.”

“It is, he would only have become the Head if I had died in infancy without siblings. But he holds a grudge, more so because of Hisana. When he was younger he tried to marry a... Someone who wasn't nobility. He was forbidden from doing so, however only a few years later I successfully married Hisana, who was not nobility, but even more than that she was from Rukongai. He considered her to be the lowest of the low, I suppose it was something of a snub for me to manage what he couldn't.” Byakuya sighed deeply, laying back as he pushed the remnants of his food aside, “He protested our marriage every step of the way, and even threatened to have me exiled from the family.”

“You're joking?! He got that pissed off because you could have something he couldn't?” Ichigo's eyebrows nearly disappeared completely.

“Mm. Things have been strained between us since then, but it got worse when she died.”

“What did he do?” The strawberry breathed.

“Celebrated.” Steel eyes narrowed slightly.

“Sick fucker.” He swallowed, shaking his head in disbelief, “What a complete-”

“Indeed.” The noble sat up again, getting to his feet as he wandered towards the window, “Things have become more complicated. He will likely inform the Council about us, and I will be summoned to speak with them.”

Ichigo vaguely remembered them talking about it before, sighing softly, “They'll try and split us up, won't they?”

“Most likely.” He admitted, glancing over at him, “Don't look so worried, I'm not going to let it happen.”

Releasing a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, Ichigo got up as well, moving closer and sliding his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder, “I should think not. I'd be most disappointed.”

Byakuya allowed a small chuckle to escape him before a fire lit in his eyes, “ _Fuck_ the Council. Let's leave, we'll go to Karakura town tonight instead of tomorrow. We can face the music when we come back.”

Widening his eyes, the Third Seat stared at him, giggling softly, “Who are you and what have you done with Byakuya Kuchiki?”

“The question is... What have _you_ done with him?” He turned and captured Ichigo's lips with his own, “I'm serious, let us go tonight. I have no desire to deal with their politics tonight, tomorrow or any day this week.”

A grin settled on his face and he nodded, “Alright, we'll go. But I do need to deal with something first.”

The noble's smile grew as he agreed to leave, “That's fine, I'll get things arranged with Renji so that he can take over our duties while we're gone, and then I'll contact Kisuke Urahara. He said he is happy to give us a place to stay while we are there.”

“Sounds good.” Ichigo pecked him on the lips sweetly before pulling back, “I'll go get stuff sorted on my side of things and meet you back here when I'm ready.”

“Don't take too long. I want you to myself.”

Ichigo laughed, a small flush rising in his cheeks, “Oh I promise, I'll be back before you know it.”

The strawberry left the mansion shortly after, glancing towards the sky thoughtfully as he began walking. In all honesty, there was nothing he needed to do before they went to Karakura town, but the prospect of going sooner than originally planned sent a shiver of nervousness through him and rather than worry his lover with it he had decided to take a walk to clear his head. He couldn't rely on Byakuya to help him understand his emotions forever.

Turning towards Rukongai as he left the walls of Seireitei, he decided to allow his feet to guide him as a lull of thoughts washed over him, basking in the blissful happiness he felt every second he was free.


	29. Where Fate Guides Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his attempt to clear his mind of anxiety and hesitation, Ichigo finds himself drawn somewhere unfamiliar. What lays beyond that point is even more unexpected, and Ichigo begins to feel like the Soul King works in very mysterious ways.

Ichigo walked so far and for so long that he realised he no longer knew where he was. He'd left the dirt paths of Western Rukongai some time ago, instead opting to whisk himself away through the grassy terrain surrounding the district. His walk so far had done nothing to ease the anxiety settling in his chest, he had been so excited at the idea of exploring his past, of finding out what had become of people he would have known as a child but when actually confronted with it the idea became terrifying.

He wasn't sure why it scared him so much, it wasn't as if he would have to approach anyone he would have known, he just wanted to find out more about himself. Logically, he knew there was nothing to be afraid of, yet his heart refused to settle down when he considered it.

Pausing, his eyes lifted from his sandals and he observed where he had ended up, frowning faintly at the scene in front of him.

There was a moderately sized house up ahead, with a pair of horrific looking statues outside, shaped like arms stretching up towards the heavens, and behind the building appeared to be a large tower of some kind, far too big for the home it belonged to, everything about it seemed out of place.

Grumbling as he realised he needed directions to get back to Rukongai, he approached, hoping he found the residents of the house to be hospitable and helpful. Shoving his hands into his pockets as he grew closer, he was forced to leap back as two large men appeared in a flash of Shunpo, startling him.

Ichigo squinted at them, they were tall; muscled and bulky, small moustaches tickled their top lips as they observed him with small piggy-like eyes. They seemed to be bald, the crown of their heads hidden by scarlet hats.

“Sorry for the intrusion, I'm a little lost, I was hoping for directions-” Ichigo's voice trailed off as the two men dropped to their knees and bowed to him, heads almost touching the floor, “Uh...”

“Ichigo-sama!” They said in unison, “Welcome back, Ichigo-sama!”

“Uh... What?” He blinked, “How do you know my name?”

“Koganehiko! Shiroganehiko!” A female voice shouted suddenly from the doorway behind the two large men. The voice yelled out again before the owner appeared from the shadows and looked over at them.

Ichigo faltered, staring at her for several long minutes. There was a tickle of familiarity, she looked like someone he knew, someone he knew from a long time ago. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She had long black hair which was barely tamed by the crazy bandages tangled in her locks, one of her arms was a prosthetic replacement limb which she seemed to carry with pride. Her face was heart shaped, mouth sculpted into a permanent smirk and her eyes, her brilliant blue eyes were sparkling with amusement beneath her fringe.

“Ichi?” The woman breathed, striding across the lawn towards him, eyes running up and down his form with an intense scrutiny.

“Do you... Do I... Know you?” He frowned.

“Know me? Of course you do!” She blinked.

“He doesn't remember us, Kūkaku-sama!” One of the men exclaimed sadly.

The woman, Kūkaku, drew closer still, until she was within touching distance. Her eyes searched his for a long moment before she lifted her hand and rested it on the top of his head, ruffling his hair gently, “Little cousin Ichi has gotten big, huh?”

“Cousin?” He felt the desire to pull away from her touch, but couldn't bring himself to do it, “I'm... What?”

Her smirk disappeared, replaced with a tone of sadness, “So, Yoruichi was telling the truth. The bitch. You really did lose your memories. All this time, I thought you were dead.”

He swallowed thickly, there was no hint of a lie in her gaze but he felt an uncomfortable pull in his gut, “I-I'm sorry. I'm really confused right now.”

“It's fine, come in, we can talk properly.” The woman named Kūkaku nodded towards the house.

“I don't know, I really should be getting back...” He trailed off, the drawing desire for information was strong.

“I don't remember asking.” She grinned suddenly and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar, hauling him inside the house without another word.

The house was bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, dipping down into the earth via a huge staircase. He was certain it was capable of rivalling the Kuchiki mansion without any difficulty.

Ichigo slipped his sandals off respectfully, following Kūkaku into a large room which lay beyond a pair of slightly open shōji doors. There was a vast pile of purple cushions in the centre of the wooden floor which the woman instantly flopped down onto, reclining comfortably as she watched him kneel down.

Ichigo swallowed as he looked around, tension rising through him like a snake uncoiling ready to strike. He had no memory of the place, and yet the smell was so familiar he could almost taste it on his tongue. He winced, pain spiking the side of his skull.

“Who am I to you?” He asked, gritting his teeth as he tried to ignore the gnawing discomfort.

“You... You are my cousin. I haven't seen you in... Fuck, it must be twenty something years.” She whispered, stroking his hair tenderly, “Your father was my uncle.”

“My father?” He croaked, not daring to move in case the pain returned with a vengeance.

“You really don't remember, do you?” Her voice turned bittersweet.

He swallowed, “You said... Yoruichi-san told you about it?”

“Yeah, we're old friends. About a month ago she came to me, it was a surprise to see her back in Soul Society.” Kūkaku paused, glancing down at him, “She told me everything, about Aizen... The Hōgyoku... Your amnesia. I was planning to come into town to find you soon, I wanted to give you some time to settle I guess.”

Pulling back slowly, Ichigo stared at her, searching her face thoughtfully, “You thought I was dead, like dad?”

“We all did. When we heard the news that Isshin and Masaki had been murdered along with the girls... It seemed impossible that you had survived, even if you were never found. I couldn't believe it when Yoruichi told me you'd been in Soul Society the entire time.” She shook her head, lips pursed angrily, “If I had known... I would have taken you in! I'm... Sorry Ichi.”

He slumped back as a small frown touched at his face, “I... I remember... Sitting on someone's shoulders...”

“Kaien, my older brother.” She smiled faintly, “He loved you like you were his own. You look so much like him now, it's... Like seeing a ghost.”

“What happened to him?”

“He... Died...” Kūkaku glanced down, swallowing the lump which had formed in her throat, “His wife too. They died together. Aizen... Aizen experimented on them both.”

Ichigo's eyes widened slightly and he felt a knot tighten in his stomach, he swallowed back bile as it threatened to overwhelm him. This was wrong. It was all so strange. How had he ended up finding this place? By chance or intervention? The idea that he'd had family nearby all along was a gut wrenching one. He felt so angry, and yet so sad at the same time.

He blinked, more for his own benefit than anything else. He could feel the truth, it was as if his memories were within touching distance, that he could reach out and snag them, pull them in close and never let go. While the chances of him winding up there were remote, somehow, his heart must have lead him there.

“I think I remember hearing Urahara-san mention you once...” He paused, “You're a... Shiba?”

“That's right. Kūkaku Shiba!” A smile graced her face as she grinned at him, “And you are a Shiba as well!”

“Why did my dad change his name?” He asked, “I was raised as a Kurosaki.”

“The... Truth is that Isshin was investigating Aizen, long before anyone else even realised something was wrong. Something happened between them, Uncle had to leave Soul Society and faked his death here. Leaving Kaien in charge until a more direct heir came along. For the sake of protecting himself, and his family, he changed his name. But all that matters is that you're here now! My little cousin Ichi.” She reached out and ruffled his hair again fondly, “I heard about your fight with Aizen. You're strong.”

“I don't know about that.” He flustered, “Nearly died for the trouble.”

“Isshin would be proud of you, kid.”

“I doubt it.” He muttered, sinking down slightly, “Did Yoruichi-san tell you... Everything?”

“About you working for him? Yeah.” She shrugged again, apparently acceptance was a family trait, “You came to yours senses in the end, and tried to kick his ass. That's what matters.”

The strawberry felt a slight weight lift from his shoulders at her words, smiling meekly as he finally relaxed. It was still unbelievable to know he had family left, to know she accepted him, to know he was cared for. Family...

“This is... So weird.” He muttered, rolling his shoulders, “I came out for a breath of fresh air and ended up finding a family... What the fuck?”

Kūkaku laughed at that, “The Soul King works in mysterious ways, kid.” She smirked, pulling an ornate smoking pipe from behind her, popping it between her lips as she returned to her cushions, “Whatever, you're here and that's the important thing. Work out the rest of that shit some other time.”

He glanced at her and felt himself smile faintly, he really liked her attitude. It was good to feel like he belonged somewhere, and strangely, despite having only known her for all of an hour, he did feel like be belonged. Maybe it was the swirling memories that were drawing closer and closer, the comfort of knowing that he wasn't alone.

Snorting suddenly, Ichigo felt a smirk tug at his lips, “Oh man, I can't wait to tell Byakuya about this. He'll have a field day.” He thought back to the pompous son-of-a-bitch who had called him a Dog not all that long ago, he was going to enjoy rubbing the truth in his face when he got the chance.

“I heard you were friendly with Kuchiki. Didn't realise it was a first name basis thing though.” She looked at him smugly, “Come on, spill. I wanna know what the deal it.”

Blush rising in his cheeks he tried not to make eye contact with her, “Well...” He paused. What was the deal? Were they an item? A fling? A couple? He simply smiled, “He's... Special to me.”

Her eyes widened momentarily before she cackled, “I still remember the days when Little Byakuya would get so frustrated and angry over the smallest of things, he would get so utterly enraged by Yoruichi's teasing. It would be interesting to see him again after all this time.”

He had seen the briefest of flashes of that anger, only for it to be stowed away with relative ease, or so it appeared from his perspective. He could only imagine what the noble had been like in his youth, “Maybe I'll bring him with me next time.” He blanched as he realised he'd assumed he would be welcome again.

“Sounds good.” Her grin widened and he rubbed the back of his neck in response.

“I should head back soon, we're heading to the World of the Living for the week, I wanted to try and find out who I was before I lost my memories.” He slowly got to his feet and looked at her for a long minute, “I want to say that I hope I'll remember things fully one day, but I can't promise that. Things always seem just out of my reach, it is simply good to know that I'm not as alone as I was lead to believe.”

The woman sprang to her feet as he did, walking towards him and slapping him around the back of the head playfully, “Don't worry about it, kid. There may not be many members of the Shiba Clan left but we stick together no matter what. If you ever need anything, and I mean _anything_ , you come to me Ichi.”

“I will.” He promised, hesitating for a moment before he reached out and hugged her, feeling it being returned made his heart sing.

“I'll dig out some photographs for your next visit, maybe we can jog some of those stupid memories to the surface.” She pulled back slowly and rubbed his arm.

Ichigo nodded, “I'd love that. Thank you!”

Kūkaku watched from the entrance of her home as Koganehiko and Shiroganehiko acted as Ichigo's guides, taking him back towards Seireitei while talking excitedly to him about their own memories of him. She turned when the last flecks of orange hair disappeared from her view and looked down the stairs into her house, expression unreadable.

“Twenty odd years... How cruel to keep him away for so long. What would you do Brother? If you were here? Heh, what am I saying?” She smiled slightly, closing her eyes, “You'd run after him and throw him up on your shoulders like he was still a little kid, and you'd never stop fighting to give him back what he's lost. I hope you can forgive me, Brother, for not finding him sooner.”

* * *

Ichigo waved goodbye to his guides as he reached a part of Rukongai he recognised, thanking them for their time and making promises to visit again as soon as he was able to do so. As he made his way through the streets, he had a renewed vigour in his step. He still couldn't believe his luck at having wandered until he was so utterly lost that his heart had found its way somewhere familiar.

Shaking his head, Ichigo bounded back into Seireitei, eager to share his discovery with Byakuya and see what the man made of it all. Anxiety gone, replaced by an keenness to continue finding pieces of himself powered his movements with an eagerness he couldn't fight, not that he wanted to.

He felt incredibly light, feet moving swiftly over wooden walkways with a gentle confidence he'd lacked in the past. Where once his steps had been heavy, dark and borderline reluctant they were now sure, uplifted and determined. Was this what it felt like to have somewhere he belonged?

He dropped down from the many walkways as he grew closer to the entrance to the Kuchiki Estate and he glanced back, sensing a presence lingering behind him. His eyes narrowed as he found himself looking at Norio, the Elder was appraising him coolly from his hiding place beneath one of the many blossom trees.

“Can I help you?” The strawberry asked, his previous politeness gone in the wake of his renewed confidence.

“Perhaps.” The man replied, his distaste evident in his tone, “I was wondering what it would take to have you willingly part from Byakuya's side.”

The lack of a respectful title wasn't lost on Ichigo, turning to face the man fully, “It would be somewhat difficult, given that I am his Third Seat.”

“There are other Divisions.” It was a simple statement, but the meaning behind it was anything but, “I am sure the rabble in Eleven would welcome you.”

“Is that so?” He breathed, drawing his shoulders back as he stood straight, eyes narrowing, “I won't be going anywhere. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Norio walked towards him slowly, his expression calculating, almost as if he was trying to work out what sort of inducement would create the change of mind he wanted, “People are impressed with you, your power; your determination; your talents as a Shinigami.”

“I assume you have a point.” Ichigo's fingers twitched at his sides.

“I do, as it happens.” The man smirked, tilting his head as he observed him, casting his eyes over him slowly as if trying to see what attraction lay there, “I wonder how impressed they would be with your talents as a spy, and a murderer.”

He refused to flinch. Refused to break eye contact. Refused to allow the plunging sensation in his stomach show on his face. How did he know? Was he grasping at straws? Did he have evidence? What did he know? Would he tell people? Too many questions... He had to be smart. Show no fear.

“Given your previous suggestions about moving Divisions, they would most likely offer me a place in the Stealth Force.” He said bluntly, “Had I not already retired from espionage and assassinations, that is.”

“I wonder how true that is.” The Elder murmured, eyes narrowing slightly as his mouth sealed in a hard line.

Ichigo chuckled darkly, allowing a wicked grin to stretch across his face as his irises flickered gold momentarily, he leaned in, “Keep pushing me and you might just find out.”

He turned his back on the man and walked towards the mansion, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a backwards glance. His mood had darkened considerably, but he pushed it down, not wanting to cause Byakuya greater concern than what he was already struggling with.

“ _ **Was that... Really necessary, Aibou?”**_ Shiro's voice filled his head with an uncertain level of curiosity, **_“Callin' on me like that is troublesome.”_**

“ _Probably not, but it felt good at the time.”_ He replied, no longer feeling like he needed to speak aloud when talking to the Hollow.

“ _ **Mm, true enough. I think he pissed his pants ya know?”**_

“ _Good.”_ He almost growled, but pushed it aside as he walked around the side of the building, coming to stand beside the larger koi pond, staring at the water as it rippled gently in response to the fish swimming below the surface, _“I have to say you've been very agreeable recently. Aren't you meant to be trying to take over my soul so you can become the King?”_

“ _ **I mean... Yeah.”**_ He could almost see Shiro shrug, **_“But... It's gonna sound dumb but... I'm kinda... Content with how things are right now. It's stopped rainin'.”_**

Ichigo chuckled softly at his answer and nodded, he understood what he meant. Despite the stress of Norio's contempt towards him, he was happier than he'd ever been. He had expected to feel lost without a purpose to guide him, but instead he simply felt free. Like he could finally steer his own course, make his own decisions, do what he wanted to do. Be who he wanted to be.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he glanced around, smiling as he came face to face with his lover, “Hey.”

“Welcome back.” Byakuya murmured, sliding his fingers down his arm until he was able to grasp his hand, “Did you get everything done that you needed to?”

“I did.” He nodded, “I'm ready to leave when you are.”

The desire to tell the man what he'd learned on his walk had quelled in the wake of his conversation with Norio, he would tell him but not right at that moment. He turned and leaned him, pressing a innocent kiss to the nobleman's lips before he pulled back. The anxiety, at least, was gone. He was ready to find out who he was, and who he had been. He knew he could do it with Byakuya at his side.

He wasn't alone.


	30. Comical World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking refuge at Urahara's store as Ichigo prepares to venture into his past, interesting and humorous shenanigans ensue.

The Gigai was just as uncomfortable as ever, he found himself shuffling around as he tried to get used to it, Urahara had teased him relentlessly when he had complained about having to wear one while in Karakura, despite the fact it would be necessary to be physically visible if he wanted to investigate his past properly.

Ichigo looked down at the file Urahara and Yoruichi had put together for him, it contained any details they had managed to comprise in order for him to track down people he would have known. In all honesty, there wasn't much there, just a few scatterings of names and a few rough outlines of where the people would be. He was grateful for their help regardless, at least it gave him something to start with.

Their hosts had been incredibly accommodating, but didn't pry which Ichigo appreciated more than anything else. Though he noticed Yoruichi occasionally looking at him when she thought he wouldn't notice, there was no judgement in her eyes, but there was something he couldn't identify.

He wondered if it was because of how he and Byakuya seemed to gravitate around each other. She had been the man's tutor for a long time, she was bound to be protective.

Lifting his gaze slowly, he glanced across the room to where Byakuya was sat, the man was perched on his futon with his legs folded and his eyes shut, apparently he was meditating in order to converse with Senbonzakura, something he did on a weekly basis to ensure their bond remained strong.

Casting a brief look towards where his own Zanpakutō was sat propped up against the wall, Ichigo let out a breath. He remembered his conversation with Byakuya, the idea that Bankai might be reachable if he started talking to Zangetsu more. During his employment to Aizen he hadn't been overly pleasant to the Zanpakutō, using him to perform brutal and senseless crimes. It was a surprise that Zangetsu was still willing to speak to him at all, he could hardly be shocked that the Old Man was reluctant to reveal the secret of his Bankai.

Humming it over, he set the file of information aside on the floor and shuffled back on his own futon, mimicking Byakuya's posture before he closed his eyes. He wasn't great at freely travelling between his Inner World and the real one, it took him a great deal of concentration, and it was draining every single time. But maybe it would be worth it if he could improve his relationship with the Soul that had already given him so much.

Ichigo forced himself to relax every muscle in his body one by one as he allowed his mind to drift. It was different doing it when he wasn't under duress. Somehow it was harder to do when he wasn't under pressure. Just about, after several minutes of trying, he could feel the connection to the world inside his Soul, he reached out and coiled his hands around it, giving it an experimental tug.

Ichigo frowned faintly, feeling something out of place, something missing. He felt a chill wash over him, raiding a shiver which crept up his spine like icy fingers dragging steel talons in their wake. It was a feeling of danger, hunger, imminent death. It was powerful. Suffocating. Choking. A hand around his throat. Squeezing.

His eyes flew open and he let out a weak croak of discomfort as he found himself flat on his back, glaring up into a pair of glimmering gold eyes, a single pale hand gripping his throat tightly.

Shiro grinned widely as he straddled his lap, pinning him in place with the weight of his body alone, shifting just enough that he could lean down, his free hand pressing into the futon. Drawing their faces closer, until their noses almost touched, the Hollow inhaled deeply, releasing a slight shudder.

“Yo, Aibou.” He purred.

Ichigo couldn't have explained the peculiar sensation that washed over him when he heard Shiro's voice aloud instead of in his head, it seemed all the more menacing and even less sane. His eyes widened as the pale mimic of himself stuck out his tongue and slowly ran it up his cheek, he flinched at the wet contact and tried to turn away, hissing venomously.

“Might I suggest you release Kurosaki-san, immediately.” A calm voice came from behind the albino as a long, squared off Zanpakutō blade slid down against his pale throat.

“I would second that.” A traditional katana appeared on the other side of his neck.

The strawberry squirmed slightly, gritting his teeth as he felt the Hollow give his cheek one last lick before he sat up slowly and held his hands up in the air in a mocking symbol of surrender. Ichigo coughed, wriggling out from under the pale menace, wiping his cheek furiously on his sleeve. Chestnut eyes slowly moved away from the grin he was being fixed with, swallowing gently as he saw Byakuya and Urahara stood side by side.

“How did you get in here, Hollow?” Urahara's usual cheery mood was gone, replaced by coldness.

“Regretfully,” Byakuya sighed, lifting a hand and pointing towards Ichigo, “I believe it is a question of how did he get out of there?”

“Sorry?” The blond raised an eyebrow.

“He's...” Ichigo swallowed, “My Hollow. Shiro.”

Shiro raised a hand and carefully pushed the two blades away from his skin as he stood up, brushing his white shihakusho down as if he had been tarnished, “Jeez, it's not like I asked to be here.”

“What do you mean?” Urahara asked, hesitating for a long moment, only to sheath his Zanpakutō back inside his walking stick.

The Hollow glanced over his shoulder towards Ichigo, gold eyes scanning his face, he snorted, “Aibou called me out.”

“I did what?” The strawberry blinked.

“What? Ya didn't do this on purpose?” The albino suddenly glared at him, “Are ya kiddin' me?!”

“Of course I didn't do it on purpose you moron!” Getting to his feet, Ichigo folded his arms across his chest, scowling.

They stared at each other, falling silent as they realised they were mirroring each other with how they were standing and instantly tried to look more casual. Byakuya and Urahara shared a look, neither entirely sure what to think about the sight.

“What exactly were you doing before this...” The blond man waved a hand in the general direction of the Hollow, “Happened?”

“I was... Trying to get into my Inner World, I was going to talk to Zangetsu.” The strawberry shot a look in the direction of the sword behind him, “It's... Hard for me to do normally, but it was even more difficult this time. I thought I felt the right connection and... Oh.” He broke off sharply.

“Oh?”

“I gave it a yank.” He muttered.

“Idiot.” Shiro hissed, rolling his eyes at him, “How the fuck ya manage to be King I'll never know.”

When it appeared that Ichigo was about to lunge at the Hollow, Byakuya moved between them, eyes closed as he considered his words before speaking, glancing at the pair after a long moment.

“Ichigo, you told me once that you were able to manifest Zangetsu's Soul in the real world while trying to achieve Bankai. Perhaps this is... Similar.” The noble offered, “After all, they are both sources of your power. It would make sense for you to be able to summon both of them.”

“I guess so...” He shrugged, relaxing slightly, only to scowl again, “Why were you trying to kill me? I thought we were past all that.”

The albino raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Tryin' to kill you? I wasn't tryin' to do that.”

“The hand around his throat somewhat suggests otherwise... Shiro-san.” Urahara mused, chuckling slightly, his aloof demeanour returning now it appeared there was no danger.

“The hand... Oh...” The Hollow rolled his eyes again, “I wasn't tryin' to kill him, I was surprised at bein' called out and thought there was danger, so I... Grabbed the first person I saw. Then, when I realised it was him I...”

“Licked me?” Ichigo grumbled.

“Uh...” If it was possible, the Hollow appeared uncomfortable for once, pallid cheeks tingeing pink.

“It was instinct, wasn't it?” Byakuya frowned at his expression, “You are constantly at battle with yourself, aren't you? You've learnt to temper yourself, to work along side him instead of against him. But that doesn't change what you are. The desire doesn't disappear entirely.”

“Tch, damn you.” Shiro clenched his jaw.

“What do you mean, Byakuya-san?” Urahara asked, tipping his hat slightly.

“Fight or flight instinct is something every living creature learns from the moment it wakes, it isn't something you can truly control or fight. And yet that is exactly what he's doing every moment of the day.” The noble shifted his weight to his other foot, “He is fighting the need to consume Ichigo's power and make it his own. Being summoned into the real world so suddenly, believing there was danger only to find there was none... Your instincts pulled you to claim him.”

“Excuse me?” The strawberry haired Shinigami stared, “Claim me?!”

Shiro huffed, clearly unable to hide his discomfort, “Sorry, okay! It's not like I had a choice in it. It won't happen again, not now I know about it. I'll be able to... Block it.”

Ichigo stared at him, feeling his anger fade away as he saw just how awkward he was feeling, “Sorry. I really didn't mean to yank you out.”

“It's fine.” The albino version of him muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, “But I'll be goin' back now, seein' as I'm not actually needed.”

The three Shinigami watched as Shiro walked towards Ichigo, the Hollow reached out, resting a pale hand over his host's heart before he faded from sight. Ichigo's eyes momentarily shone gold and he lurched forwards, feeling like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him.

“ _ **Well, at least it ain't rainin'.”**_

Ichigo almost rolled his eyes at the comment, but was merely pleased that the weird experience was over. He swallowed hard and blinked to clear his vision, staring at the other two men in the room a little gracelessly.

“Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Are you alright, Kurosaki-san?” Urahara's fan was out, fluttering aloft in front of his face.

“I'm fine.” He shrugged off the concern and glanced at his Zanpakutō again for a long moment, “It's... A terrifying thought to know he can walk around freely. Even if he chooses to behave, at the end of the day he's only doing it because he wants to.”

“You will undoubtedly clash again in the future.” The blond said softly, “The battle for dominance is never truly over. But he seems to respect you, which gives you a good head start.”

“I guess so.”

Urahara hovered for a long minute, watching the strawberry with interest, “Anyway, I shall leave you alone now. It is long past time for me to sleep. Good night, gentlemen.”

“Goodnight Urahara-san.” Byakuya nodded his head without ever removing his eyes from his lover.

The noble moved only when the door clicked shut, pushing Ichigo against the wall firmly with one hand, he saw the surprise on the younger man's face and yet he was unable to remove the frown from his own.

“Byakuya?”

“Just when I think I have a grasp on who and what you are... You do something unexpected and it changes everything again.” His voice was quiet, yet sullen.

Blinking, the Third Seat tutted, “It's not like I do it on purpose. What's wrong anyway?”

“It is one thing to manifest your Zanpakutō in front of your own eyes,” steel eyes narrowed faintly, “But actually having it visible for other people to see is something utterly different.”

“Huh?”

“It takes an extraordinary amount of concentration to summon your Zanpakutō's Soul in such a way that they become a visible, physical entity for other's to interact with. Even I have never done so.” Byakuya tilted his head slightly, “I can't believe he had the nerve to even consider claiming you either.”

“You said yourself that it was out of his control.” He shrugged but couldn't resist smirking, “Did it bring out your possessive side?”

The noble's hand slipped away and he chuckled softly, “More than I am comfortable with admitting.” He offered a small smile and began walking back to his own futon, “Please, don't try going to your Inner World again tonight, I'm not sure I trust myself to fall asleep if there's a chance of that creature having his hands over you.”

Prising himself away from the wall, he rested a hand on his hip, “I'm not sure that's a promise I can make. The idea of seeing you fight with the urge to reclaim what's yours might just be too much for me to handle.”

Ichigo never even saw it coming, but he felt a swift kick knock his feet out from under him and he crashed down onto his futon with a gasp, barely having time to register the movement before Byakuya was on top of him, pinning him in place with the strength of his body, dragging his teeth down the line of his throat.

“In that case, perhaps I should save you the trouble of drawing out that side of me.” The noble growled against his skin.

He laughed, dragging him up into a kiss as he allowed his tongue to steal itself inside the noble's mouth, groaning deeply as he smugly decided never to tell Byakuya just how easy he was to manipulate.

* * *

It was the early hours of the morning when they were woken by the annoyingly shrill chirp of Byakuya's denreishinki, the device detecting the presence of a Hollow within the area. Both Shinigami were sluggish at first, untangling themselves from each other as one checked the location of the Hollow and the other grabbed their Gikon.

“Where is it?” Ichigo asked, wincing at the ache in his spine as he swallowed the small green candy, instantly bursting out of his Gigai.

“Not far, about a mile down the road, it seems to be near a park.” Byakuya followed suit, covering their Gigai with the bedsheets in case Urahara or Yoruichi checked on them, “Let's go.”

They bounded across the rooftops together, matching their speed with ease as they made their way to the location given by the device still clutched in the Taichou's hand. Ichigo noticed somewhere in the back of his mind that the man's haori was missing, and assumed it was because they weren't officially collecting lost souls or banishing Hollows. He remembered the last time he'd seen him without it while they were working together, the memory wasn't a pleasant one.

Ichigo nearly fell from their current rooftop as Byakuya stopped suddenly, the noble was frowning deeply as he looked down at the denreishinki, “What's wrong?” He asked, peering over his shoulder.

“It's gone.” The raven haired man stated, “The Hollow, it's gone.”

“Gone? As in cleansed or-”

“Cleansed, or something similar.” His frown deepened, “How strange. I wasn't aware that there were any Shinigami currently patrolling the town.”

“Maybe we should check out the location, just in case?” The strawberry suggested, they weren't far away after all.

Byakuya opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a fresh trill from the device, “No need, there's a new one appeared. It's nearby.”

They changed direction, shooting off towards the new Hollow, only to have it disappear again when they got closer. It happened twice more after that, annoying them both in equal measure. Byakuya began to wonder if he'd been given a faulty device and planned to ask Urahara to check it in the morning, or at the very least, at a more reasonable hour than what they were currently working with.

As they made their way back towards the store, Ichigo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he turned, looking out over the area they had come from, searching for the cause of his discomfort. He felt like he was being watched. It was a sensation he was growing truly tired of. If it wasn't a homicidal Arrancar, it was a treacherous snake like Gin, and now once again something was glaring holes into his head.

Huffing, he turned his back on the feeling and stalked off after his lover, glad when they arrived back at the store and he was able to shut the doors behind them.

They slipped back into their Gigai in silence, setting the denreishinki to one side, pleased it had stopped its inane ringing for the time being, suggesting the Hollows in the area had thought better of trying to find a meal for the night.

Ichigo curled up against the noble's chest, sighing softly as he tried to fall back to sleep, however he peeked up to see Byakuya staring at the ceiling, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, it simply occurred to me that your skills at sensing reiatsu are...”

“Rubbish? I did warn you.” He chuckled, “It's true. I can sense strong reiatsu like yours or Urahara's, I can even tell where it is at the time I'm sensing it. But pretty much anything less than at least Fukutaichou level is a blind spot for me, unless I'm really familiar with the person.”

“What about your own reiatsu?” The noble asked.

“Hit and miss.” He shrugged, “I can tell its strong, but controlling it is hard. Well, its harder now my emotions are involved, when I was... I mean it was a lot easier when I didn't have a thousand things going on in my head at the same time.”

Byakuya made a noise of understanding at the back of his throat, going quiet for so long he almost seemed to be asleep, only to murmur something else, “And yet your sense of those around you is incredibly sharp. When we came here before, you sensed the Arrancar before I did, and tonight you sensed someone watching us again even when I did not.”

He shrugged sleepily, nuzzling against the man's neck, “Maybe that's Shiro's influence, his instincts are far sharper than mine.”

“Maybe.” Steel eyes closed finally as he held on more securely to the body pressed against his.


	31. Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected meeting finally gives Ichigo a starting point for his investigation, but his joy is short lived when a shadow from the past emerges from the darkness to enact vengeance against him.

The next two days were a peculiar mix of following leads, and following the trails of Hollows which appeared and disappeared too quickly for them to ever lay eyes on them. As much as Urahara checked the denreishinki and tried to find out if there was something wrong with it, for all intents and purposes it appeared to be in full functioning order.

It was as confusing as it was infuriating to keep being called out to deal with Hollows, only to have them dealt with before they reached them, with no apparent explanation for why it was happening or who was the cause. Byakuya had even checked with Soul Society and confirmed that they were only two official Shinigami in the town at the time, excluding Yoruichi and Urahara.

For the two days that had passed, Ichigo was constantly aware of eyes on him no matter where he went, whether he was in his Gigai or not they were still on him. It was uneasy feeling, only made worse by the fact Byakuya continuously sensed it after him rather than before, sometimes up to ten minutes after at a push.

So far, the leads Urahara and Yoruichi had managed to give him were dead ends, but then, he wasn't really sure what he was looking for. It didn't help that he had the constant feeling that the blond man knew a little more than what he was letting on, but no amount of pressing the matter would get him to suggest anything other than what he'd already given him.

It was with his current feelings of irritation that Ichigo was walking around the town alone, not wanting to take his foul mood out on Byakuya, despite the man's understanding. He sighed heavily, shoving his hands into the pockets of the jeans his Gigai was wearing, there was something oddly comforting about the World of the Living clothes he had, almost as if they were something he would have chosen for himself if he had remained in that world.

He looked out across the houses as he began to descend downhill, having a brilliant view of almost the whole territory, even if it was only for a brief moment before the overlapping trees and hedges obscured it from his sight.

The people were friendly enough, though he heard a spattering of surprised comments about his hair colour, it wasn't something he was unfamiliar with so it didn't bother him. His feet froze in place as he felt the most out of place sensation run though him, it was nervousness and yet it wasn't his own.

“ _Shiro?”_ He frowned, finding himself unable to move.

“ _ **On yer right.”**_ Was the only reply he got from the Hollow.

Indulging him, he turned his head, eyebrows furrowing as he saw a memorial garden situated between two other houses. If he hadn't been told to look there he almost would have missed it completely. Finding his feet, he trudged over, slipping through the small metal gate as curiosity took over.

There was a magnitude of brilliantly coloured flowers splaying in an organised chaos of pollen and petals, bushes were neatly trimmed back and the grass seemed to have been recently mowed. There was a bench towards the back of the garden, oak with a metal frame and a plaque on the backrest.

His body seemed to stop as the world slowed around him, his heart pumping all the faster as his eyes glanced over the small metal plaque, the words flying off to meet him.

_'In loving memory of the Kurosaki family.'_

He felt sick. He could taste bile on the back of his tongue and clenched his teeth, swallowing hard in an effort not to give into the feeling. Allowing his shoulders to slump, he reached out and brushed his fingers against the cold metal.

“This is where the house was, huh?” He murmured to himself, “I guess it makes sense that they'd rip it down. No one would want to live there.”

“Are you alright?”

The soft voice which came from behind him startled Ichigo; he turned on the spot, staring with wide eyes at the person who had managed to sneak up on him so easily. It was a woman. She was quite petite, yet curvaceous and at least six inches shorter than him, with incredibly long burnt orange hair which was brushed over her shoulders out of the way of warm brown eyes that were currently filled with about as much shock as he'd ever seen someone experience.

“K-Kurosaki-kun?” Her voice squeaked as her eyes began to well up with fat tears, “Is... Is it really you? Kurosaki-kun?”

He gulped, staring at her in hopes that he might suddenly realise why she was crying and why she knew his name. He winced as he was blinded by the reflection of light which bounced off the blue hairpins in her locks and the wind was knocked from his lungs in one fell swoop, “I-Inoue? Orihime Inoue?”

The barrage of memories that flickered across his vision almost made him keel over, flashes and seconds of details, moments embedded somewhere deep in his mind. Her hair had been shorter, far shorter, cut above her shoulders by bullies who'd disliked her for her differences, it was a feeling he knew well. Her brother dying suddenly, leaving her alone in the world, his last gift to her, the blue hairpins she wore so proudly every single day, never removing them even when she slept.

“I thought you were dead!” She was in his arms, clinging onto him like he was the only thing keeping her from flying away into the sky, her sobs so hard that she shook with each one, her tears soaking his shirt.

He hesitantly rested his hands on her shoulders, trying to be as comforting as he could despite the torrent of emotions he was being struck with as well, “I... I'm not dead.” He muttered dumbly, it wasn't exactly a lie.

“W-Where have you been? It's been such a long time! Y-You just disappeared... T-That night... No one knew where you'd gone... T-They couldn't find you...” She was hiccuping now, fists balled tightly in his clothes.

“I...” He had no idea what he was meant to say, the truth was an impossible option, so perhaps the lesser of two evils, “I was taken away. By the person who... Caused it.”

“How awful!” She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, “You've been gone such a long time... Kurosaki-kun... How did you get away from them? How did you get back? Are you... Alright now?”

If he was annoyed by the rambled questions he didn't show it, smiling weakly at her, “It's a complicated story. I... Lost my memories, I had no idea how to get back here. But... I'm doing better. It's a slow process I guess? I'm still missing a lot.”

Orihime looked horrified, biting her bottom lip to stop it shaking, “I'm so sorry! It must have been awful... Maybe if we had looked harder... Maybe...” She trailed off, when she spoke again her voice was barely above a whisper, “I'm so glad you're okay.”

“Don't blame yourself, there was nothing you could have done. You were just a kid.” He wiped the tears from her face with a tenderness he usually reserved only for Byakuya's company, but the woman in front of him was fragile, “You look amazing, by the way. I can't believe how much you've grown up.”

She pulled back slowly, tucking some loose hair behind her ear, blushing faintly, “Heh, thank you. I can't get over you though, Kurosaki-kun... You've grown up but... You still look young. You must tell me your secret at some point, I'd give just about anything to stop the wrinkles showing.”

Ichigo faltered at her comment, she was right. He hadn't aged the same as she had, Soul Society worked differently. It would take him centuries to look even close to her age, by which time she would be in Soul Society herself. It was a sobering thought.

“I have to head home, dinner won't make itself and the kids will complain about it,” Orihime rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “Maybe we can catch up again this week if you're... Sticking around?”

He felt his mouth go dry as she mentioned children, she had a family of her own now, he found himself nodding, “I would... Like that very much. Thanks.”

Her smile was brighter than her hair as she hastily scribbled down her phone number and shoved it into his hand, “Call me when you're free and we can meet up! It was so good to see you, Kurosaki-kun!”

The dumbstruck man watched her run off down the street, her smile practically glowing as if all the weight of the world had suddenly been removed from her shoulders. He looked down at the scrap of paper in his hands and felt a knot lessen slightly in his chest. He had an actual starting point. Someone he could talk to, someone who knew him, knew his past.

Eager to share his good fortune, he ran back towards Urahara's store as fast as his legs would carry him, pausing outside of the park to catch his breath. He leaned forwards, resting his hands on his knees as he sucked in deep lungfuls of air.

“ _ **Duck!”**_ Shiro's voice came from within the silence and he felt his body bend against his will as the Hollow took momentary control.

“What the-” He spluttered, voice cut off as a large fist flew over his head. Had he been stood straight it would have made contact.

“ _ **Roll!”**_ His body moved again, narrowly avoiding a foot which was aimed at his spine.

Diving forwards, he skidding across the tarmac, flipping around to face his attacker, eyes widening as he came face to face with the huge Arrancar he'd injured during his last visit to the town. There was a wide grin on the colossal man's face as he thumped his huge fists together.

Clenching his teeth, Ichigo grabbed his Gikon from his back pocket, swallowing the pill quickly. His Shinigami form burst forwards, sword already in hand as he instructed his Gigai to report back to Urahara's store and let them know what was happening.

“So, one ass beating wasn't enough for you, Arrancar?” He asked, holding his sword aloft.

“Thought I'd return the favour.” His voice was deep.

“You're gonna be disappointed.” Ichigo smirked, “Getsuga Tenshou!”

The arc of energy flew towards the Arrancar, but it was only ever meant as a distraction as Ichigo weaved his way in and out of Shunpo, getting closer and closer, shooting up behind the big man and carving his blade towards the back of his neck.

His eyes widened as the Arrancar turned, knocking aside his Getsuga Tenshou with one hand, while the other wrapped around the blade of his Zanpakutō and stopped him in his tracks. His back arched as a fist connected with his gut and he was tossed like a ragdoll, hitting the ground hard, hissing as his hands were scuffed as he brought himself to a stop.

“You won't get the drop on me again, Shinigami!” The Arrancar was laughing, it was a deep, booming laughter, “I can't work out why Aizen-sama wants you so badly.”

Flinching, Ichigo's body tensed at his words. Aizen still wanted him? Even now?

A fist connected with his face and snapped his head around, he bit his tongue and tasted warm metallic liquid as it flooded his mouth. Ichigo let out a groan as he hit the floor again, harder than the first time, his cheek singed by some energy he hadn't seen, he didn't have time to consider what it was as the giant Arrancar stomped on his chest, seemingly pushing all his weight behind it.

“ _ **Switch places!”**_

“ _No!”_ He grunted as the heel of the foot twisted sharply in his ribs, _“We can't risk you rampaging through the town!”_

“ _ **I'll never rampage again if ya die!”**_

Not for the first time, Ichigo found himself wishing he could use Kidō, but it was something which had always evaded him no matter how hard his tutors, or Aizen, had tried to teach him. He had always assumed it was to do with his poor capabilities at controlling his own reiatsu.

“ _ **If ya don't stop overthinkin' things, I'll take control by force.”**_ Shiro's voice was low and angry, **_“Now do as I fuckin' say! Aibou!”_**

Ichigo faltered as he listened to him, slowly lifting his hand and flexing his fingers, blackness seeped into his sclera as he felt the icy contact of Shiro's hand resting over his, guiding him with a surety that was most unfamiliar from the Hollow.

The moment his eyes glinted with gold, a swirling crimson orb began burning in his outstretched palm, growing larger and larger before it fired, striking the Arrancar in the face and hurling him backwards.

The strawberry felt Shiro step back, relinquishing that momentary hold on him willingly, he was grateful. Lurching to his feet, the Shinigami rubbed his chest, already feeling bruises forming under his shihakusho. He glanced down at his hand, there were faint scorch marks against his skin.

“A Cero? From a Shinigami?” The Arrancar's voice was hoarse as he appeared in front of him again, blood dripping down his face, “Maybe there is more to you than meets the eye.”

“Thanks for your consideration.” He growled, lifting his Zanpakutō again, “You have a name, Arrancar?”

“Yammy Llargo, Décimo Espada.”

“Espada?” The strawberry repeated in confusion, “What the fuck is an Espada?”

The Arrancar, Yammy, smirked while wiping blood from his cheek, “Aizen-sama's elite commanders.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he considered the idea that Aizen had an army growing in Hueco Mundo, he remembered the stories. The long hours of Aizen's plans to ascend to the Hollow home world, to grow an army of powerful warriors who were both Hollow and Shinigami, now it was becoming a reality.

“Then, for the sake of saving this town, I cannot let you live.” His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, teeth clenched tightly, “I will send you back there in pieces!”

He let out a roar, raising his reiatsu as far as he could manage, pushing it out with the force of an untamed beast, shooting forwards in the blink of an eye as he brought Zangetsu around in an arc, leaving it to the very last second before he released another blast of Getsuga Tenshou, screaming as he pushed all his weight and all his power behind the blast, forcing it forwards as he saw Yammy lift a hand to bat it aside.

“Not this time!” He growled, pushing harder still. He felt sweat running down his face as Shiro's presence tingled around the edges of his vision, adding to his forcefulness and tingeing the Getsuga Tenshou with a menacing black and gold swirl.

He felt the resistance pressing back against him falter and he fell forwards, crashing to the ground as he heard a scream of pain; he raised his head shakily, barely flinching as he was sprayed by blood, one of Yammy's thick arms slamming to the floor beside him, severed at the shoulder.

Eyes flashing as he saw the Arrancar, no, the Espada reaching for the sword which was at his side, he simply knew he had to stop him drawing it. There was a fuzzy instinctual sensation running through him which said that if the Hollow drew that sword it would be over before it had begun.

“ _Switch!”_

“ _ **What?!”**_

Shiro sounded more surprised than Ichigo was at the sudden demand, and yet he felt the immediate surge of power as his Hollow stepped forwards to take charge, vision flickering black and gold.

It was a strange feeling, as if he was sat watching someone else use his body and control his movements. Shiro was fast, faster than he was, more precise and hesitated far less to think about what he was doing. That was the power of instinct. Each strike, swipe and stab of their Zanpakutō cleaved flesh from bone.

Zangetsu was being spun, whirled around by the bandages which usually formed its sheath, movements fast and unreadable, it was thrown without warning, striking the Espada in the chest and impaling deeply, only to be ripped back out with the same brutal force, shaving the Hollow's other hand off in the process.

Tutting as he slung the weight of Zangetsu over his shoulder, Ichigo felt his hand raise and another Cero charged in his palm, growing larger than the first and firing mercilessly. The howl of pain he heard was jarring, but it was followed by silence.

“ _ **There, ya happy now?”**_

“ _I mean... Kind of.”_

Ichigo shuddered as Shiro backed off, again grateful that his Hollow was being more agreeable, and less inclined to maintain control of his body when it was given. He walked forwards, striding closer to the crumpled form of Yammy.

He came to a stop near his head, raising an eyebrow as he saw he was still breathing, “My, my, you must be stronger than you look. That last blow was meant to kill you.”

“Bastard.” Was the raspy reply.

“Oh you have no idea.” He smirked, holding Zangetsu out, blade pointing downwards, “Send Aizen my regards.”

The squelch of his Zanpakutō sliding through skin, skull and brain matter was a little disturbing, and yet it brought a dark sense of satisfaction to the forefront of his mind as well. Maybe Shiro's influence was a little more lingering than he'd first realised.

Scowling as he noticed a faint splodge of blackness peeking out from under the white shihakusho the Espada had been wearing, Ichigo crouched down and and yanked the cloth aside, his frown deepening as he cast his eyes over the Gothic number ten.

“So that's what you meant by 'Décimo Espada'.” He murmured.

Ichigo's back stiffened as a hazy memory came to life in the back of his head, it was uncomfortable and hard to focus on, mostly due to Shiro having been in control at the time. Then it hit him. Grimmjow had been adorned with a number as well, hadn't he?

“Kurosaki-san!” Urahara's voice broke him from his thoughts, “What the...”

Lifting his gaze, he blinked softly, seeing the blond running over with Byakuya at his side, “I'm fine.” He said as he stood up, glancing down as a slick sound caught his attention and Yammy's body disintegrated, “Tch.”

“That was one of the Arrancar from before.” Byakuya noted, eyes washing over the strawberry as he noticed the injuries he had been afflicted with, “What happened?”

Sheathing Zangetsu, he sighed, checking himself over as well, “He attacked me when I was heading back to the store. Apparently, he was still pissed that I beat him last time.”

“You defeated a fully formed Arrancar... Alone?” Urahara asked, holding onto his hat lightly.

“No.” He stated simply, “Shiro helped. We defeated him together.”

“That is... Impressive nonetheless,” the blond ex-Taichou breathed, “You appeared troubled when we arrived, did you discover something?”

The hairs on his arms prickled slightly and he twitched, fighting the urge to look behind him, “Not here.” He said simply, sensing eyes on him from the shadows.

The two older Shinigami glanced at each other, neither having sensed the faint presence nearby until the strawberry had, they nodded and headed back to the store with a flicker of Shunpo, completely missing the emerald green eyes which drew closer in their absence.


	32. Of Quarrels And Quincy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Yammy's defeat, the events of the day pile on top of Ichigo's still fragile emotional state and bring back some memories he'd rather forget.

Ichigo laid back on the futon that night, rethinking everything that had happened through the day. Meeting Orihime was certainly a highlight; Byakuya and Urahara seemed pleased when he told them about the encounter. He had decided to call her in the morning, to see if they could meet for a coffee and chat about things. He hoped she had answers for the questions which burned in his mind.

Yammy on the other hand, while he had felt exhilarated by the battle, there were so many things that concerned him about it as well. The idea of the Espada, their ranks, their strength. Urahara had been noticeably shaken by it as well, if Byakuya had been, he hadn't shown it but he had insisted on sending a message to Soul Society with the new information.

If Aizen's desires for an army of Arrancar level Hollows was being realised, the least Ichigo could do was to be happy that he had deprived him of one of his generals. But Yammy had made that point, hadn't he? Aizen still wanted him. Even after everything that had come to pass. Aizen still had hope that he'd join him one day.

He could help but allow his mind to wander briefly, memories surfacing without permission.

_Hissing as sweat rolled down his naked torso, Ichigo forced himself to stand taller under the crushing reiatsu which threatened to swallow him whole. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, forcing concentration to flow with a little more elegance than what it usually did._

_Aizen's reiatsu was incredible. It seemed to have no end. He couldn't believe how much of it the man concealed on a day to day basis, it was something of a privilege to be permitted to witness his true strength._

_It was all for his training, to grow stronger than he already was, that he endured the torment of being crippled beneath such power. It had taken eight months to get to this point, to be able to stand under this magnitude of reiatsu for more than a few seconds._

_He staggered as the pressure lifted suddenly and almost collapsed on the spot, panting harshly as his eyes fluttered open, feeling strong hands on his arms, keeping him on his feet. He looked up, feeling a chill run through him as he found Aizen's face close to his own._

“ _You're progressing very well, Ichigo.” The man's voice was smooth._

“ _Thank you, Aizen Taichou.” He licked his lips and blinked back the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him, “I can go again, if you wish.”_

“ _Not today, however, I do have something of a different challenge for you.” The brunet mused, dragging a finger slowly down his damp cheek._

“ _What do you wish of me?” Ichigo asked instantly, barely concealing the shudder that came as a result of his touch._

“ _Try to push me to my knees with your reiatsu. I want to see how much you've grown.”_

_Raising an eyebrow, Ichigo stared back at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was joking, he quickly realised that he was deadly serious. Giving a quick nod, he closed his eyes, centring himself as best he could._

_Clenching his teeth, he started to push his reiatsu out, allowing it to pour free from the confines of his body. It took concentration, intense concentration at that, but slowly he was able to open his eyes without losing even a fraction of control over the power he displayed. He could see Aizen was stood, apparently without any form of difficulty, but he looked impressed._

“ _You are clearly progressing well.” There was a glint in those chocolate brown eyes which made Ichigo's heart stutter faintly with excitement, “But I think you're still holding back, just a little. Let go of all hesitation, let go of any oppression. Give it everything.”_

_He drew in a shaky breath and let it all out in a scream, fists clenching at his sides, he felt his body quake with the force he emitted, darkness filled his vision and the world crumbled away as he felt himself drop._

_It could have been minutes or hours later when he was finally able to open his eyes. When he did, he found himself to be laying face down in the dust, his body was still twitching gently as his muscles relented from the apparent seizure they'd suffered._

_Probably the most surprising thing he noticed, was Aizen. The brunet was still standing, but his glasses were on the floor two halves._

“ _A-Aizen Taichou... Are you alright?” He asked, body protesting as he forced himself up onto his hands and knees, “What... What happened?”_

_The brunet touched his chin thoughtfully as he glanced down at his Fifth Seat with interest, raising an eyebrow a fraction before he took measured strides towards his subordinate, leaning down and grasping a fistful of orange hair, eliciting a fizzle of discomfort from the strawberry._

“ _I do believe you just showed how much you've grown, I am pleased.” Was the reply, fingers loosening in his hair before he was dragged into a heated kiss, his back slamming against a nearby rock, “Tell me, Ichigo, what do you hope to achieve from your training?”_

_Dazed from the kiss, he swallowed hard, “Achieve?” He repeated, “I want to stand by your side, and help you achieve what you desire.”_

“ _I know you are loyal to my cause, but what is driving you? What do you want?”_

_Ichigo paused and considered the question seriously, it wasn't as if he'd never asked himself it, but his answer was always the same as the one he had already given. He had never been concerned for his own desires, from the moment he'd met Aizen and been given his purpose in life, his own wants had faded away._

“ _I...” He trailed off as he considered the black out he'd just experienced, the force he'd managed to pump out just before, and the fact Aizen was practically unharmed by it, “I want.... I want to be able to let my power flow... Without holding anything back, and I want to know that the people around me can take it. That I won't kill them by accident.”_

“ _I see.” There was a smirk tugging around the corners of his lips, peering into chestnut eyes with chocolate ones, “Then that is what I will give you. As a gift, a reward for when this is over. When we achieve my goals, there will be a place for you where you can truly be free. Where you can walk among people strong enough not to crumble and die. That... Is a promise.” It was sealed with another bruising kiss._

_Ichigo was flattered by the vow, never having expected a reward for his loyalty. It was enough simply to have a purpose day after day, no longer drifting through life without meaning. He let out a wanton moan as he felt Aizen's hands slide down his ribs, fingers creeping beneath the damp fabric of his hakama._

Ichigo's eyes flew open as he felt someone's hands on his shoulders, he shot away from them, back slamming against the wall as a feral snarl escaped him, eyes wide and untamed as his half sleep induced state suggested he was in danger. It took him several seconds to realise the entire room was shaking under the intensity of his own reiatsu.

“Ichigo!” Byakuya's voice snapped him out of his daze.

Swallowing hard, the strawberry haired male lowered the pressure immediately, sagging slightly as shallow pants escaped his parted lips. He reached up nervously and touched his lips, the memory of Aizen's kiss was almost physical, his lips feeling like they'd been crushed under the brunet's with all the intensity of how he remembered.

The door to the room flew open and a light came on, blinding him momentarily before he made out the worried faces of Urahara and Yoruichi. He swallowed and lowered his gaze, almost ashamed to have caused such a ruckus.

“Sorry.” He gasped, gulping back the feelings of panic as he dropped to his knees.

“What happened?” Urahara asked, apparently looking for signs of a fight, “Did you have a domestic?”

“Kisuke.” Yoruichi's voice was low, almost an annoyed growl.

“I... It was a dream, nothing more.” He muttered, looking away from the prying eyes he could feel, “Just a memory.”

“What did you see?” Byakuya asked, moving over swiftly and sitting beside him.

He was hesitant to say, embarrassed as much as he was disturbed by the vividness of the memory. Ichigo saw their hosts move further into the room, sitting down opposite him as they waited, hoping he would explain the aggression of his unconscious reiatsu.

Sucking in a breath, he allowed his shoulders to slump, “Aizen...” He saw Byakuya and Urahara flinch, “We met while I was a student, the end of my second year... The start of my third. He found me being attacked by older students, they didn't like how pretentious my hair colour was. One of them brought a knife-”

“What?!” Urahara looked horrified, “They attacked you because of your hair? Didn't the teachers do anything?”

“Why would they? I never told them.” Ichigo's snort suggested it should have been obvious, “They let their guard down and I wiped them out. It took seconds but when I finished, he was stood there watching. Aizen. I was an asshole, mocked him for not helping. He just said he wouldn't want to have dented my pride. I knew... From the moment I saw him stood there, something wasn't right. I don't know how I knew but I did, but so did he. He could see past my facade as easily as I saw past his.”

“A rare talent.” Yoruichi muttered, “A shame not everyone had your eyes.”

Folding his arms, he hugged his knees tightly, “I guess. He offered to help me with my studies. We started meeting up regularly. Gave me extra training. I was already pretty good but by the time I was half way through my third year I was a top level student.”

Byakuya remembered hearing Rukia mention how Ichigo had improved in almost all areas of his study, without any real reason for it, “Except Kidō. Even he couldn't improve that.”

Grunting in the affirmative Ichigo scoffed, “I know every incantation, every Kidō imaginable. Aizen taught me everything, even the forbidden techniques. But I can never use them. It was the only disappointment he ever had from me.”

Byakuya and Urahara shared a look, the noble could tell they shared the same concern. Thank the Soul King Ichigo was incapable of using Kidō, he would be a demon if he could.

Tipping his head back, the strawberry swallowed, “By the end of my third year we were lovers. He promised me a position in Division Five. Began telling me about the Hōgyoku, about Urahara-san, about his plans to end Soul Society and ascend.”

“You were in on it for that long?” Byakuya breathed, his eye twitching, “You knew for nearly _four_ years...”

“You seemed surprised.” Ichigo glanced at the noble, “We both know I was as emotionless in Shino as I was when I joined Six. I earned his trust easily with my inability to feel guilt.”

“My Third Seat wasn't your first kill, was he?”

“No.” An honest answer, “I told you on Sôkyoku... I did terrible things for him. I regret it now, almost all of it... But there's one thing I can never regret. He allowed me to kill the men in Fugai who found me that first night, I tore them apart.”

The noble swallowed hard, while he couldn't feel sorry for the men when he knew what they had done to him, he couldn't help but feel a small swell of pity for the madness that must have driven his lover to behave so animalistically.

“Once I joined Division Five we started a new type of training. He wanted me to be able to withstand his reiatsu. It took weeks... Months... Years... At every interval of success he just piled more reiatsu on. I really thought there were no limits for him. He'd punish me whenever I crumbled, reward me when I got back up.”

Byakuya looked disgusted, “He punished you for not being able to stand under his reiatsu?”

“Yeah. It was harsh and cruel but it worked. It made me stronger. By the time I joined Division Six I was capable of withstanding a lot of his power. Not all of it. But a lot.”

Ichigo's mouth went dry as he thought again about the dream he'd had, the memory which burned so brightly even now while he was awake; he had to battle the urge to touch his lips again as the bruised feeling returned. He shuddered and hugged his legs tighter as he considered his next words.

“The promise.” He said quietly, “My dream, my memory... It was about the promise. He swore to me that once he'd achieved his goals, he'd make a place for me where I would never have to hold back. Where I could be myself. Somewhere I could be free and powerful and not hurt innocents. He reminded me of that promise on Sôkyoku Hill, and today with the Espada...”

“What was said?” The raven haired noble asked, realising quickly that something more had to have happened to rouse such a memory.

“He said he couldn't work out why Aizen wanted me so badly.” He croaked, “The moment he said it I realised... Aizen is still hoping I'll join him. He's still holding a hand out, offering me that place.”

“Would you go if you were asked?” The noble's voice was quiet.

Ichigo looked at him in a flash of anger, “I killed the Espada, didn't I?” He snapped, “I could have gone with him if I'd asked. But instead, I killed him.”

Byakuya opened his mouth to utter an apology, but was silenced when the denreishinki began its familiar shrill chirrup from beside them. Ichigo snatched it from the floor and checked the location, picking Zangetsu up from his resting place.

“I'll go.” He murmured, “I need some air. And don't worry, I won't go opening any portals to Hueco Mundo without consulting you first.”

His Gigai was abandoned and he was gone before he could feel guilty for his snide remark, or see the expression of pain it had caused. He wasn't sure why Byakuya's question had made him quite so angry, whether it was the simple suggestion of distrust, or the fact that he wasn't sure of his answer.

He knew from his talks with the nobleman that Shiro had confided an uncomfortable truth in him. The truth that the Hollow was in love with Aizen, and due to their connection he too would always feel a degree of the same emotion. Just as his love for Byakuya coloured Shiro's feelings towards him. As far as Ichigo was concerned, it was a clusterfuck.

Reaching the location of the Hollow, it was a nice change for the lazy looking giant centipede not to have been taken care of by their mystery Hollow hunter. Although, killing it didn't make his mood any better.

Huffing in frustration as he balanced on top of a telephone pole, he gripped the denreishinki tightly and hoped for another Hollow to appear, just so he could release some of his foul mood upon it. He instantly felt guilty for wishing trouble on his home town and slumped a little.

Glaring up at the full moon above him, he put his hands on his hips. None of this was Byakuya's fault really, or Urahara's, or Yoruichi's and yet he was acting like a petulant child about it. They'd been worried about him. His reiatsu had shaken the damned shop, and that had been while he was asleep.

He found himself half wishing for detachment again, even if it was only temporary, just so he could try to organise the bombardment of feelings and thoughts he was having. He instantly regretted that thought as well, nothing in the world could make him want to lose out on the good things he'd gained since rediscovering the ability to feel.

“Ugh I'm an asshole.” He slapped himself on the forehead.

“You always were, if I remember correctly.”

Ichigo's eyes flashed open and his hand was on the hilt of his Zanpakutō in a flash, blinking in surprise as he found himself staring into the depths of a brilliant blue arrow made of reishi, “What the-”

“So, Orihime wasn't hallucinating after all.”

Slowly leaning to the side so he could see the person behind the arrow, he caught a flash of dark hair which was flicked to the side in a prominent fringe, and frameless glasses which barely concealed the angry blue eyes behind them.

“You know Orihime?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as the arrow followed his movements.

Blue eyes narrowed, “And it appears she was correct about your amnesia. Interesting. It's been a long time, Kurosaki.”

Blinking again, he stared as he tried to get a proper look at the other man's face, the arrogance was starting to seem overly familiar but he was still lost, “You have me there, I don't have a clue who you are.” He admitted, raising his hands in defeat.

“Tch,” the arrow and the bow connected to it disappeared abruptly as the man put his hands on his hips, scowling at him as he balanced perfectly on the telephone wires, “I can't help but be slightly offended that you remembered Orihime but not me. How typically rude of a Shinigami.”

That was when Ichigo was really thrown, suddenly glancing down at himself and remembering he was in his Shinigami form, his gaze snapped back up, “You can see me. Holy shit.”

“As crude as ever.” A nudge of the glasses was given with a middle finger, “I _am_ a Quincy.”

“Huh...” He mused, “A Quincy. I haven't heard that in a while. Aren't you guys meant to be extinct?”

“We are, mostly. No thanks to your Shinigami antics.” There was genuine venom there.

Allowing his gaze to wander briefly, Ichigo took note of the pure white attire of the other man, which was only occasionally disrupted by pale blue and silver. Tilting his head as it began to ring a bell somewhere in the depths of his mind he suddenly flinched.

“Ishida? You're... Uryū... Ishida?”

“Yes, Kurosaki.” Arms were folded in apparent annoyance, “I see you remember something at least.”

“Man, how did I ever forget your condescending attitude, it just fills me with warm fuzzy feelings.” He sneered, “What are you doing out here? I already dispatched the Hollow... _Oh_. You're the mystery person who's been taking care of them.”

“Not as stupid as you look.” There was a taunting smirk on his face now as he nudged his glasses again.

He remembered Ishida now. Uryū Ishida, the last Quincy. They had known of each other in school, but had never really mingled aside from a few fleeting moments when Orihime had brought them together with her abominable recipes. There had always been some unspoken tension between them, even as children, Ishida had treated him like a second class citizen, and Ichigo had responded in kind.

“You took down that creature today, didn't you? The powerful one.” The Quincy's voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “Couldn't leave him wandering around causing trouble.”

Expression twitching only faintly in response, the dark haired male turned, “Regardless of anything else... I am glad to see you aren't quite as dead as everyone believed you to be, Kurosaki.”

Blinking in surprise at the sudden melancholy of the other's voice, he smiled faintly, “It's good to see you too.”

“Orihime mentioned that she gave you her number. Make sure you use it before you return to Soul Society. I will join you for your meet up, I too wish to know what became of you after that night.” Blue eyes met chestnut ones, “Sado is in town at the moment as well, taking a break from his music tour. He will join us too.”

“I'll be calling her in the morning.” He stated simply, he currently couldn't remember anything about anyone called 'Sado' but figured it would come back to him when the time was right, “See you tomorrow, Ishida.”

He watched his childhood acquaintance disappear in a flash, slightly startled that a could use Shunpo, though a trickling memory of his studies on the Quincy tribe reminded him that they didn't use Shunpo, they used Hirenkyaku.

Sighing deeply as he was left alone again, he slowly crouched on the post he remained perched upon, he knew he needed to return to the store but he didn't want to face Byakuya yet. He was still frustrated, but more so at himself than his lover. It was ridiculous, how a single memory could have affected him so deeply.

“ _ **Ya gonna be okay, Aibou?”**_

“ _Yeah,”_ he considered, puffing out a long breath, _“I don't have a choice really.”_

* * *

When he returned to the store and slipped into their shared room, Ichigo wasn't surprised to find Byakuya still awake. The nobleman was pacing the room but stopped as soon as he sensed his presence. Finding it hard to meet his inquisitive gaze, Ichigo got back into his Gigai and set Zangetsu against the wall. He let out a small sigh and held the denreishinki out to the raven haired man, looking up only when he felt the small device leave his grasp.

“I... I behaved like a dick.” He said quietly, hesitantly meeting the steel look.

“The fault rests with me, Ichigo. I should never have doubted you.” The nobleman said in a whisper.

“Yes you should.” The strawberry said a little more certainly, “We both know that Aizen's interest in me isn't going to disappear, and we both know that Shiro's feelings aren't going to change. I was angry because... Because I can't give you an honest answer.”

Byakuya moved closer, gently rubbing Ichigo's hip supportively, “I don't believe you'd go to him if the offer was made.”

“The thought of him makes my skin crawl,” Ichigo breathed, hanging his head, “The memories of what we shared, of his kiss... His touch... I wish I could forget but I can't. All I can do is shudder and feel repulsion. But I know those same memories make Shiro practically purr. He can't help it. I worry that faced with the choice I'd succumb to the Hollow.”

“You're strong, Ichigo. You've proved that many times already. You have a choice now, never forget that.” A soft kiss was pressed against his forehead.

“The dream I had... Just before I woke up... I could feel his hands on me. I could feel his fingers slipping under my hakama, when you woke me I could feel the pressure on my lips, the bruising... It's why I was so... Panicked.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't realise.” Byakuya swallowed, hugging him close, “He can't touch you now. I won't let him anywhere near you, not while there is still life in me.”

“I know.” His fingers clutched at Byakuya's yukata, “I love you.”

“I love you too, nothing will change that. No matter how many nightmares, no matter how many memories, no matter how many arguments. I will be here.”

A small smile tugged at Ichigo's lips and he found the courage to lift his head, his breath hitching as he saw how close their faces were. He could feel the cool breath of his lover against his skin, he could see the intricate concern in his eyes.

“Can we push the futons together? I don't want to sleep alone.”

“Of course we can.” Byakuya offered a comforting smile, “You are never alone.”


	33. Connecting The Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's meeting with Orihime reveals more than a few surprising twists.

The next morning was a strained affair as the four Shinigami sat around the small dining table in Urahara's front room, eating breakfast together in almost complete silence.

Setting his chopsticks down, the strawberry haired Third Seat straightened slightly, deciding he had to shatter the uncomfortable peace, “I... Met another childhood friend last night.” He stated calmly, noticing how the other three glanced at him.

“When you went to deal with the Hollow?” Yoruichi asked, slumping back on some cushions.

“Yeah.” He gave a single nod, “He's a Quincy.”

“A... Really?” Urahara was instantly more interested.

“Mm. Had his bow aimed at my face and everything.” Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, “We went to school together, never really got on but he said he was glad to see me. He's gonna join me and Orihime later today when we meet up.”

“I'm glad you've made progress with your search.” The blond Shinigami smiled faintly, “Have you worked out what you are going to tell them yet?”

“I have no idea. Ishida found me while I was out of my Gigai, so he will know if I don't tell him the truth. But there's no knowing how much I can safely tell Orihime.” He shrugged, “I guess I'll know when I see them.”

“At least the mystery of the denreishinki malfunctioning has been resolved.” Yoruichi chuckled, sipping a cup of tea thoughtfully.

“Indeed,” Byakuya mused, stirring his tea thoughtfully, “It would appear this town currently doesn't possess a Shinigami representative to take care of the numerous Hollows in the area, it is somewhat fortune that a Quincy of all things lives here.”

Biting his lip as he listened to the raven haired Shinigami, Ichigo sucked in a breath, “Urahara-san, Yoruichi-san...” He licked his lips, “I wanted to apologise for last night. I was a complete asshole.”

“You were under a great deal of stress.” Urahara's response was immediate, as if he'd already forgiven and forgotten, “Think nothing of it.”

“We truly are concerned for your well being, nothing more.” The purpled haired woman smiled softly at him, “You've been through a lot, it's natural that something will sneak up and knock the wind out of you every now and again.”

“Thank you for being so understanding... But, there is no excuse for treating you like I did. You've been kind to me, I owe you both a lot. I promise to do better.” He smiled weakly.

“That is all anyone can do, Kurosaki-san.” Urahara said knowingly, as if he'd had to do the same once upon a time.

Ichigo looked up as he felt Byakuya's hand rest on his knee, a comfortingly light squeeze applied, the strawberry smiled tentatively as his guilt faded away. Emotions really were tricky things.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Ichigo left the store, heading for Orihime's house. When he'd phoned that morning, she had sounded over the moon that he'd asked to meet up and had immediately invited him for his dinner. It was as nerve racking as it was exciting, part of him wished he had asked Byakuya to accompany him, but in all honesty he knew it was something he had to do alone.

Orihime still lived in the Sakurabashi district, about five minutes away from where she'd lived as a kid, it brought back some funny memories as he walked the streets, passing sights which had started to become familiar as more and more flickers of his old life came back to him. He thought he'd be distressed by it, but in fact each little fragment that returned filled him with warmth.

When he turned the corner and saw Orihime waiting outside her front door for him, he lifted a hand and offered a lazy wave, smile stretching across his face as she practically beamed at him. Ichigo's eyes widened as he saw her stumble, almost knocked flying by two bundles of energy that flew from the house, vaulted the gate and sprinted towards him with a relentless speed which could only be described as 'childhood spirit'.

He was assaulted by a pair of arms wrapping around his left thigh, clinging tightly to him as another pair of arms coiled higher around his waist, two small bodies pressing against him happily. He was thrown, not having properly been around any children since his days in Rukongai, Yachiru was an exception.

“Goodness me,” Orihime's voice was soft but full of amusement, “I'm so sorry Kurosaki-kun! They've been excited to meet you all day!”

“I... It's fine... Really.” He found himself unable to refrain from smiling as he looked down at the two children.

His friend walked over, giggling softly to herself, “The little one is my daughter, Kaida. And the other is my son, Hotaru.”

Kaida was small, petite but had a huge confident smile that lit up her entire face like a sunbeam, her eyes were dark blue, but her hair was the same burnt orange shade as her mothers, currently pulled up into two tails which barely brushed her shoulders. A spattering of freckles splashed over her nose and cheeks in an asymmetrical pattern.

Hotaru was almost her complete opposite, already quite tall for his age and had some faintly defined muscle, his eyes were the same cinnamon brown as his mothers, while his cropped spiky hair was almost black. His skin was pale, without a hint of freckles or other blemishes.

“A little dragon, and a firefly huh?” He asked, amused by the meanings behind their names, “They're gorgeous.”

“And twins, believe it or not.” She mused, “But Kaida has always been a little smaller.”

“Well, as long as they're both healthy that's all that matters right?”

“Ichi-ji!” Kaida released his leg and held her arms up, a hopeful smile on her face.

Ichigo blinked at being called 'uncle' but found that it warmed his heart in ways he'd never encountered before, he chuckled gently, stooping enough to scoop her up in his arms, balancing her on his hip as her brother grabbed his free hand.

“You are a natural, Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime clapped her hands happily at the sight and hastily led them into the house.

Finding an easy smile on his face, Ichigo followed her merrily, the house was beautifully decorated in warm autumnal colours with occasional blasts of subtle cream, there were bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling in almost every room, with photographs of the children on every available surface.

It was comfortable as he found himself seated at the kitchen breakfast table, Kaida unwilling to be put down for a second, even when Hotaru ran off to return to the television. He was surprised by just how content he was holding the small Human, never having had that kind of contact with anyone before.

Scanning the kitchen counters, Ichigo could see an abundance of cake tins, tiers, boxes of fondant icing and bags of flour.

“You enjoy baking then?” He asked, “I remember you were quite... Experimental when we were kids.”

She placed a cup of tea in front of him and sat around the other side of the bar, nodding slightly, “I run my own cake company now, mostly special event cakes like weddings, blessings, birthdays. I still like experimenting, but I toned it down a lot.”

“Your own company? That's incredible.” He breathed, sipping his drink gratefully, “How the hell do you have time to juggle that with two kids?”

“It's not been easy, but it makes it worth while to be able to take them on holiday and spoil them.” She looked at her daughter fondly, eyes twinkling with delight, “They make everything worth it.”

Ichigo felt his throat constrict, for the briefest of moments it was like he was staring at his own mother again. The same happy smile, the warmth in the eyes, the soft heart-shaped face. It knocked the breath from him and he found himself looking at his hands.

“I'm surprised you told them about me... It's been a long time...” He paused, “I didn't expect that.”

“Of course I told them about you! Even if it was only for a short time, you had a huge impact on my life. Seeing how you stood up to the kids who bullied you about your hair gave me the courage to do the same! It's because of you and Tatsuki-chan that I was able to grow my hair again!” Her hands were gripping her cup tightly, “I'm determined to make sure my Little Dragon has the same courage.”

Ichigo absent mindedly brushed the small girls hair, only noticing then that she had fallen asleep against him, “She seems so comfortable with a stranger.”

“You're not a stranger, Kurosaki-kun.” Orihime's voice was stronger, “Even if you have amnesia, even if you can only remember the basics... We _never_ forgot you.”

Swallowing, he wasn't sure what to say. His heart ached at the idea of the life he could have had, maybe by now his own son or daughter would be snuggled up into his side, asking for a story or to play a game. He'd lost out on so much.

He glanced around as he heard the front door open and blinked in surprise as Ishida strode into the kitchen like he owned it, setting a briefcase down on the counter before he walked over and kissed Orihime softly on the lips, glancing at Kaida with an eye roll before he brewed himself a drink.

“She really does trust anyone, just like her mother.” The Quincy muttered, “Thank goodness Hotaru is more like me, and will look after her.”

“Your...” Ichigo let out a breath as his eyebrows almost disappeared under his fringe.

A smirk toyed at the edges of the Quincy's lips, “Yes. Orihime is my wife, Kaida and Hotaru are my children.” Ishida then peered towards the doorway, “Do you want tea or coffee, Sado?”

“Tea is fine.” The deep voice of the giant man in the doorway took Ichigo by surprise.

He was huge, easily pushing six foot six in height, and his muscles were big enough for Ichigo to feel small in comparison to the dark skinned man. His hair was thick, brown and wavy, almost completely covering his eyes, and his large hands were holding the strap of a bass guitar case which was slung over his shoulder.

“Ichigo?” The man asked, eyes widening slightly.

The strawberry gulped, his head aching from a small barrage of memories which threatened to make his stomach churn, it was a feeling he felt he was experiencing all too often these days, and he kind of hoped he'd eventually get better at remembering his past.

“Chad.” He smiled weakly, “It's been a long time.”

Instead of replying, the man placed his guitar case against the wall and sat down next to him at the breakfast bar, accepting the cup of tea silently, his eyes never leaving Ichigo's face.

It was good to be in the company of faces which were becoming more well-known, titbits of information leaking into his mind as they fell into a comfortable pattern of chatter, none of which currently seemed directed towards where the hell he had been for the last twenty six years. He could only assume such a conversation would take place once Kaida and Hotaru had gone to bed.

He learnt, over a hearty meal, that while Orihime was busy running her cake shop, Ishida had become a doctor like his late father and specialised in general surgery, Chad was a world famous boxer with a sideline career as a bass player for a well known band.

“What do you do, Ichi-ji?” Hotaru had asked curiously, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as sauce went everywhere.

“Don't talk with your mouth full.” Orihime had scolded him with a frown which had faded just as fast as it had appeared.

“Uh...” Ichigo then found himself staring at Ishida, trying to find some kind of response that would be plausible, “Security.” It wasn't exactly a lie.

A couple of hours after their meal, the kids were taken to bed and Ichigo was finally able to regain full function of his left hand side, though admittedly he was sad to say goodnight to Kaida. He couldn't place why, not until he considered she was a similar size and build to what Karin and Yuzu would have been if they had reached her age. It saddened him for a moment, but he pushed it aside, not wanting to colour the rest of the evening with a sense of sombreness.

When Orihime returned from tucking the siblings in, the four adults moved out into the garden, it was a warm night and a few spattered fairy lights illuminated the patio more than enough for them to continue talking without issue.

The drinks turned alcoholic and Ichigo found himself nursing a bottle of cool beer, watching as the back door was slid shut to give them some privacy. Silence fell between them, and slowly he realised it was coming close to him having to give some form of explanation as to his disappearance, and sudden return. He was no closer to knowing how to address it than he had been at the start of the day.

“Kurosaki, would you mind giving me a hand with this?” Ishida asked, apparently fighting with a collapsible patio chair.

“Sure.” He muttered, setting his bottle aside as he hurried over to be of assistance.

He wasn't sure if it was a lapse of concentration, or the fact he'd felt no threat, but he couldn't react fast enough as the Quincy spun and slammed his hand into his chest, throwing him backwards with a strength he hadn't expected.

Gasping at the familiar sensation of being parted from his Gigai, he looked down, seeing the faux body crumpled on the floor, he clenched his teeth as he turned to demand an explanation, only to falter as he realised everyone's eyes were on him. Not the Gigai. Him.

“Oh my goodness... Kurosaki-kun...” Orihime's hands were over her mouth, “I didn't believe it when Uryū told me last night...”

Clenching his teeth, the strawberry folded his arms over his chest, glowering at the bespectacled man, “Was that necessary?” His eyes narrowing further as he saw the glove the Quincy was wearing, the flaming skull emblem more than a little familiar, “Where did you get that?”

Nudging his glasses up his nose, Ishida flexed his fingers experimentally, “Urahara-san has been most helpful over the years.”

Hissing, “Of course he has.” He had known the blond Shinigami had been holding something back from the start, but knowing just how deeply he was involved was infuriating, “So, how much do you already know?”

“Next to nothing.” Chad murmured, the surprise fading from his features, “Only that... Twenty six years ago something happened at your house, your family were killed and you were missing. No one ever saw you again after that night.”

“That same night, something happened to us as well.” Ishida raised an eyebrow, “According to Urahara-san, we were afflicted by a run off of energy from something called the Hōgyoku.”

Ichigo's eyes widened slightly, “It affected you? What the hell did it do?”

“Within me, it strengthened my Quincy powers and made them develop quicker than they would have done other wise.” He jangled the cross shaped metal trinket which hung around his wrist.

Chad stood slowly, flexing the muscles in his right arm before a demonic blackness seeped from the very air itself and encased the limb, “For me, it gave me the power to strike down those who threatened the weak, and finally taught me why I was given such natural strength.”

Orihime smiled sweetly before her hands lifted to her bright blue hair pins, “Shun Shun Rikka. I was finally able to protect the people I love.”

Ichigo watched in fascination as the pins glowed orange and released tiny spirits from them, almost resembling fairies of a sort. Casting his eyes over his three childhood friends he rested his hands on his hips, head tilted slightly to the side.

“Well, shit.” He chuckled weakly, realising now that the real reason Hollows kept disappearing so quickly across the town was because it wasn't just defended by a single Quincy, the three of them clearly worked together, “Get comfortable, this is going to take a while.”

He told them everything. Everything he remembered. Everything that had happened. They listened without interruption, unless it was to clarify a term he'd used that they were unfamiliar with, however that was scarce as it seemed they'd been meeting and training with Urahara for quite some time and were more than a little familiar with the workings of Shinigami, Hollows and everything in between.

Ishida was the first to speak when he'd finished, “This Aizen guy sounds like trouble, a lot of trouble. It's not just Soul Society that is in danger if he carries on making those Arrancar. They'll filter through to the World of the Living as well.”

“I know.” He grumbled, nudging the Gigai on the floor with his foot, “But until we know exactly what he's planning there isn't a lot we can do. We can't just storm Hueco Mundo and overthrow him, if that was possible he'd never have been able to leave Soul Society to begin with.”

“At least you put an end to that awful creature before he hurt someone.” Orihime mused, tapping her lips with her fingers as she considered the story about the Espada called Yammy, “Kaida and Hotaru play at the park regularly, and from the sounds of it, I'd be hard pressed to overcome something that strong.”

Sighing deeply, Ichigo folded his legs, sipping the beer which was now warm in his hands, “It's worrisome. I'm gonna make sure Soul Society sends a Shinigami here when I get back, there's no way a town this size should be undefended. Even more so when there's people like you around, your reiatsu must draw them in sometimes.”

“Yes, on many occasions.” The woman nodded thoughtfully, “We've handled everything ourselves so far, but once in a while Urahara-san has to step in if there's a Hollow that is too powerful.”

“I can't believe he didn't say anything about you guys.” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He knew you had to find us for yourself.” Chad grunted.

Ishida nodded in agreement, “He said it was part of the journey.”

“So... When did he tell you that I wasn't dead?” He asked.

“The beginning of the week.” The Quincy shrugged, “He said you'd come back to find your past. But hearing it and seeing it... Very different things.”

“I didn't believe it when he told us...” Orihime sniffled slightly, “It was so hard to imagine you survived what happened... You've had such a hard time, Kurosaki-kun...”

He swallowed thickly at the emotion in her voice, reaching over gently and squeezing one of her hands in his, “It sounds like you've all had it hard. I had no idea the energy from the Hōgyoku had spiked off like that, let alone affected anyone else. Hell, I didn't even know it had been used on me until recently.”

“We don't regret it.” Chad's voice was strong, “It made us who we are.”

“I guess so.” He hummed, sitting back slowly as he felt a wave of relief wash over him, “Heh... It really is good to know I'm not alone.”

“You're never alone, Kurosaki-kun!”

“I don't care much for Shinigami,” Ishida glared over at him, but the look softened slowly, “But I'm glad you're back.”

“Thanks.” He whispered.

“I do have one question though.” The Quincy added, “Why do you use a Gigai?”

“Huh?” He frowned, “Well... So I can operate in the World of the Living, letting people without reiatsu see me.”

“I know that,” a roll of the eyes, “But if what you said is true and you were taken through that special Senkaimon you mentioned... You still have a Human body.”

Blinking, the strawberry thought about it, “I... I guess that's true... If I were to come to the World of the Living through the Resishi Henkan-Ki I'd be converted back into my Human body instead of having to use a Gigai.” He considered it for a long moment, “I'll have to try it sometime. I'm sure Division Twelve would have one to hand.”

“When will you be going back to Soul Society?” Orihime asked.

“The end of the week,” he answered softly, “Kuchiki Taichou and I can't be gone for too long, we've got important jobs to get back to.”

“And this... Abarai Fukutaichou can't do it all by himself I suppose.” She pouted.

Laughing gently, he shook his head, “Renji is good at being a second in command, but he's not ready to take the reigns yet. Any longer than a week and the place will go up in smoke. Especially if Rukia distracts him.”

The woman smiled brightly, “It sounds like you have good friends there. I'm glad.”

“Yeah... I do.” He agreed, “It took me a long time to realise it, but... I owe them a lot.”

“Maybe we can visit one day!” She said excitedly, “Surely there must be a way for us to do that! If you explain everything to the other Taichou.”

“Maybe.” Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, “But it would take a lot of organising. Most of the Taichou aren't completely in the loop about me yet. We've been trying to work out exactly how to explain everything without landing me in prison.”

“If anyone can find a way, its you.” Ishida snorted, “You always had a silver tongue.”

“I can't tell if that was a compliment or not.” He scowled.

“If you don't know, I won't tell you.” The other smirked.

“God you're an ass.”

“Look who's talking.”

They bickered for quite a while, but it felt almost natural, there was no real venom behind it, just habit. But eventually, as the night drew on, Ichigo had to make his excuses and carefully slipped back into his Gigai, flexing carefully as he stood up, muscles aching from where the faux body had been sprawled on the floor for so long.

“Please come and visit again before you leave!” The petite woman exclaimed, hugging him tightly, “Feel free to bring Urahara-san, Yoruichi-san and your Taichou next time!”

Patting her back as he pried himself out of her grasp, he simply nodded, “Alright, I'll call you. If you need me in the mean time I'm staying at the store.”

“Later, Ichigo.” Chad simply lifted a large hand in farewell.

“I'll probably see you later, Kurosaki.” Ishida pushed his glasses up, “Something tells me that tonight will be a busy one again. I'll make sure to spare you some scraps.”

Deciding not to rise to the bait, he rolled his eyes and waved goodbye to them as he headed off down the street, settling into a comfortable pace as he considered the evening's events, and just how content he felt to have a connection to his old life restored.

He was going to kill Urahara for tricking him, but he'd be sure to thank him first.


	34. Return To Soul Society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their week in Karakura Town draws to a close, Ichigo and Byakuya face the reality of returning to Seireitei and the likely mountain of paperwork neglected by Renji. But it seems fate has something rather different in mind.

The rest of Ichigo's week in Karakura town passed peacefully, with no further intrusions from any Arrancar level Hollows, no further flashbacks to memories he would rather forget about, and a highly entertaining afternoon of introducing Byakuya to his childhood friends.

“Kurosaki-kun, you didn't say how beautiful your Taichou was the other night!” Orihime had cornered him in the kitchen once the introductions were set to bed with the promise of tea.

“Did I not?” He had smirked to himself at her flushed expression, “It does seem that stoic, dark eyed men are your type, Orihime. I'd never have guessed.”

She had snorted and slapped his arm playfully, but made no move to deny his claims as she made the tea, simply shooting him a mischievous grin as she passed him, “Though, something tells me that even if I were a single lady, I wouldn't stand a chance. He clearly only has eyes for you.”

“Perhaps.” Was the only answer he had dignified her with at the time.

Now, as he sat on the rooftop of Urahara's store, looking up at the crescent moon and the flittering stars surrounding her, he found himself sinking into a deep sense of completion and contentment. He couldn't help but think how different his life was, how right it felt now that he had somewhere he belonged.

While he knew he could never return to a simple Human life, it was good to know more about where he'd come from, where it had all started. Although, in some senses it raised more questions. Why had his Shinigami father been living in Karakura town, was it because of Aizen like Kūkaku had suggested? Had his mother known what he was? He had an itching feeling that she probably would have known, but he had no way of knowing if that was blind wishful thinking.

They would be leaving in the morning, returning to Soul Society. He felt a strange sense of sadness, even though he knew he would be able to return and visit his friends. Sighing softly as he lowered his gaze just a little, he stared out over the other rooftops nearby and made a split second decision.

Sliding down from his seat, he hurried inside the store and disposed of his Gigai and hastily ran back out, not wanting to disturb the sleeping inhabitants.

Half walking, half running down the streets, he found his way back to the memorial garden. He nudged the gate open gently and closed it behind him, allowing the moment to envelop him as he accepted the weighty sense of grief that washed over him.

He had learned that Orihime was the one who came to tend to the flowers that grew there, never wanting the spirits of the departed to think they had been forgotten, she had planted a new flower for every year which had passed. It was a beautiful thought, one which warmed the mournful chill in his gut.

Sitting on the bench dedicated to the Kurosaki family, he allowed soft breaths to leave him as he calmed the aching in his heart. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could almost remember the house. Almost.

“I still don't know what happened, not really...” He said quietly, “Maybe I never will. Maybe that's my curse. But I think I can accept that a little more now. Even if there's barely a trace of us left here now, I found people that have never forgotten... That never will. At least that's something.”

“ _ **Ya doin' okay, Aibou?”**_

“ _Surprisingly... Yeah, I think I am.”_ He smiled faintly as he responded to Shiro's enquiry, _“What about you? It must be weird being here right?”_

“ _ **What do ya mean?”**_

“ _This is where you were made right? That night?”_

“ _ **Mm.”**_ The Hollow's response was almost too soft to hear, **_“I'm glad ya came back here. Found a part of yer past. I hope it brings ya some peace.”_**

“ _What the fuck happened to you, huh? You've gone from trying to kill me and take over my powers to almost sounding happy for me.”_

“ _ **Shut up, brat. Just be grateful.”**_ There was no real anger in his voice, just mild amusement, **_“I spent a long time wantin' to be the King. Only to realise that... It might be better this way.”_**

Ichigo nodded slightly at his words, acknowledging them, _“Thanks.”_

“Come here, Aibou.” Shiro's voice was suddenly very much alive and real beside him on the bench.

Eyes flashing to his albino doubles' face in surprise, he blinked once and raised a questioning eyebrow, “What... You can just pop out at will now?”

“More or less. Takes quite a bit of energy but I can manage it.” The Hollow shrugged, getting to his feet slowly, “Seems to me that this place could do with a personal touch... Somethin' to make sure yer always here... At least in part.”

Confused, but following him, he allowed his Inner Hollow to guide him the corner of the memorial garden, there was a bare patch of dirt there which seemed barren of flowers and life, a single patch where nothing seemed capable of growing.

“I know ya ain't good at controllin' yer reiatsu so yer gonna have to trust me to do if for ya.” The albino crouched in front of the dirt, gesturing for him to come closer.

“What are you doing?” The strawberry asked, frowning faintly as he knelt beside him.

Instead of answering straight away, Shiro gently grabbed Ichigo's hands and guided them to the dirt, pressing them palm down. The soil was cold under his touch, but began to warm up the longer he remained in contact with it.

“What are you doing, Shiro?” He asked again, tilting his head.

Gold eyes flitted to chestnut, “I'm gonna channel our reiatsu, temper it, control it, and create somethin' new from it. It's... Hard to do, especially when only one of us can control it properly. But... It'll be worth it. Just trust me and concentrate.”

Giving a small nod of acknowledgement, Ichigo fell silent, inhaling and exhaling slowly as he tried to make his reiatsu as pliable as possible for his counterpart to use. He could feel the gentle tug of the Hollow manipulating his power, it was a peculiar and spine tingling sensation, he watched in amazement as Shiro's hands came to rest on top of his again, and together began to glow with a gentle amber tone.

The soil shifted under their fingers, twisting and moulding itself into something new, giving way to the sprout which was pushing itself up, prying its way to freedom, tendrils of green leafage springing to life as the buds opened themselves up to reveal warm orange tones of petals, glistening with a protective residue of reiatsu.

“What the...” Ichigo swallowed hard as he looked down at the flower they had created together, “How the...”

“Ya know all those blossom trees Byakuya has around his home?” The Hollow tilted his head, sitting back as if content with a good job done.

“Yeah, there are hundreds of them.” He nodded once.

“This is how they were created. Nobles have this... Innate talent at manipulatin' their reiatsu to create new life. Yer shit at it, 'cause ya can't control yer own reiatsu. But with a nudge in the right direction... Ya can do it too.” The Hollow rocked back onto his heels and smiled at the plant, “Now yer always gonna be here in some way.”

“Shiro...” Ichigo swallowed thickly, cautiously brushing his fingers over the petals, he could sense his own reiatsu trickling through it, “Thank you.”

“Don't get soft on me now, or I'll be forced to become King myself.” The albino smirked softly but nudged his counterpart's shoulder mildly to show he was joking.

Snorting as he got to his feet, the Shinigami stretched and looked around, the moon was still high in the sky above them, casting delicate rays of flittering white light over the area, reflecting off surfaces and casting subtle shadows.

“Things are going to be different once we leave.” Ichigo murmured as he started walking back down the street, sensing Shiro right behind him, “I'll have to go back to training for Bankai, back to my duties as a Third Seat, back to trying to make up for all the shit I've done.”

“Mm, there's a definite sense of peace in the town. Like ya could stay forever and never worry.” The Hollow mused, shoving his hands in his pockets as he matched the strawberry's pace and came to walk beside him.

“I'm going to make sure Orihime, Chad and Ishida can visit Soul Society sometime. I think Soul Passes are still a thing. I want them to see where I am now, who I am now.” He smiled slightly, “Rukia will love 'Hime, and I imagine Renji will enjoy Chad's down to Earth personality. Ishida... Well... He doesn't like anyone really.”

“Sounds like a good idea, Aibou.”

Ichigo slowed as they turned the corner of the street, squinting up ahead he blinked as his gaze settled on a small soul that was huddled up beside a lamp post. He hurried forwards and bent down, smiling comfortingly at the little girl.

“Hey.” He held a hand out, “Are you okay?”

She lifted her gaze, blinking with big eyes as she sniffled and accepted his help, “You can see me?” She asked.

His eyes fell to the Chain of Fate in the middle of her chest and he rested a hand on top of her head, ruffling her hair gently, “Of course. I'm a Shinigami.”

“Shinigami?” She repeated, “Does that mean... You can help me? I've been stuck here for ages and... I keep having to hide from these monsters you see...”

Ichigo smiled a little, “I can help you with all of that. There's a wonderful place waiting for you, called Soul Society. You can be safe there, and enjoy the next stage of your life among other souls.”

She seemed content with his offer and relaxed, clasping her hands tightly together as he drew his Zanpakutō and promptly stamped her forehead with the hilt, watching the soft glow emanate from her skin.

He stepped back as she sank into a pool of soft blue light, eyes following the Hell Butterfly that came after, watching as it fluttered away, Konsō complete. Sighing softly, he turned to Shiro who had been lingering out of the way.

“Let's head back.” He murmured.

“That was yer first Konsō, wasn't it?” The Hollow asked as he followed.

“Yeah.” Ichigo let out a puff, “It feels good to have helped someone like that.”

* * *

The following morning, Urahara, Yoruichi, Byakuya and Ichigo ate breakfast together, they spoke little and seemed content to finish their meal. Byakuya and Ichigo were more than ready to return to Soul Society and catch up on their duties.

They headed into the underground training room Urahara had revealed to them at the start of the week and were surprised to find Orihime, Ishida and Chad already waiting for them, along side Kaida and Hotaru. Ichigo broke into a grin as Kaida broke free from her father's grasp and scrambled up into his arms instead, hugging him tightly around the neck.

“Good morning Ichi-ji!” She exclaimed happily, beaming at him.

“Good morning.” He replied, chuckling softly as he balanced her on his hip, “I wasn't expecting you to be here.”

“We had to come and say goodbye!” Orihime sounded almost exasperated, “There was no way we were going to let you disappear without a trace again, Kurosaki-kun.”

“Indeed, she was most insistent.” Ishida muttered, seemingly less bothered about the up coming departure.

As Urahara joined them, opening the Senkaimon between two of the larger rock formations in the room, Kaida and Hotaru released small gasps of surprise, while the other Humans in the room seemed both amazed and taken aback.

Ichigo glanced at the two children, he shouldn't have been surprised that they could see the opening, both Orihime and Ishida had fairly powerful reiatsu, it only made sense that their kids would as well. Kissing Kaida on the forehead before he passed her back to her Quincy father, he offered a wave.

“I'll see you soon. Make sure you take care of yourselves in the meantime!” He stepped up into the blinding light ahead of them and offered a hand out to his lover.

“Keep us updated on everything concerning Aizen. Kurosaki.” Ishida nudged his glasses up his nose, “If his plans threaten Karakura in anyway, or you find yourself in need to extra assistance... We'll be here to help.”

Shooting a look at Urahara, the strawberry pointed at him, “You'd better keep an eye on them.”

“Of course, Kurosaki-san.” The blond man merely tilted his hat slightly and offered a wide smile.

When the doors slid shut behind them, Ichigo and Byakuya made their way through the open passage, guided by two Hell Butterflies. Their fingers linked as they walked, offering a shy smile to one and other as the exit to Soul Society drew closer.

“I shall have to attend to my paperwork when we return, I am sure Renji has done his best to keep on top of it, but I have no doubt Rukia has distracted him in our absence.” The noble hummed.

“I need to attend to my duties as well.” He agreed, imagining a large pile of reports on his desk.

“You are welcome to join me at my private quarters tonight if you wish, I shall not be returning to the mansion until the weekend.” There was an unspoken promise underneath the offer, one only confirmed by the slight twinkle in Byakuya's eyes.

Smirking faintly as he released his hand, Ichigo stepped out of the Senkaimon first, “I'd be honoured, Taichou.”

Any response Byakuya may have been about to give, died on his lips as they were met by the sight of Norio's passive aggressive expression glaring across the courtyard at them. Byakuya's back stiffened slightly as he noticed the presence of two other Elders at his sides and tension rolled off him in waves.

“Well... That looks like a welcoming committee if ever I saw one.” Ichigo huffed, cursing the Soul King for his timing.

“Your presence is requested by the Council of Elders.” Norio's voice was as blunt as ever, “Along with Ichigo Kurosaki.”

“Oh good, I'm invited too.” The strawberry couldn't stop the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

The Kuchiki heir clenched his teeth, “I have things to attend to, I don't have time to-”

“It is mandatory.” The Head Elder interrupted, “If you do not attend willingly, I will be forced to make you attend.”

Ichigo glanced at his lover and Taichou, expecting to hear another protest, however as he saw a mixture of mild concern and annoyance on his face instead, he realised that a mandatory meeting wasn't something that could be avoided.

“ _Shiro... I don't suppose you fancy doing something useful?”_ He thought, following the Kuchiki family cautiously.

“ _ **Will it piss off that stuck up son-of-a-bitch?”**_ Came the immediate answer.

“ _Probably.”_

“ _ **I'm game.”**_

Ichigo smirked faintly, glancing to the side as he watched his albino counterpart slink away from them, disappearing into the shadows. He was done being pushed around by people who thought he was no better than dirt under their shoe. It was time he made a stand.


	35. Tied In Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their relationship called into question by Head Elder, Norio, Ichigo and Byakuya are forced to face the Council of Elders. Just when it seems Byakuya's infamous temper might explode, Shiro provides all they need to silence the Council permanently. But where there is joy, there is so often scorn.

The Council of Elders was located inside a vast chamber on the outer rim of the Kuchiki Estate, not too far from the family shrine and yet far enough away to provide them with a magnanimous privacy. The chamber itself was a large traditional looking minka house, the walls appeared to be mostly fusuma, heavier than shōji and far more opaque; Ichigo could see a few small verandas around the sides of the building, giving way to small tranquil gardens.

Upon being guided inside, the distinctive smell of tatami flooring hit his senses and Ichigo was reminded, not for the first time, of how traditional the Kuchiki family was. As they were shown down the winding hallways towards a centralised chamber which seemed to be situated down a flight of stairs, he caught sight of several elevated, ornamental alcoves, used to display various scrolls and busts, many of whom were depicted with the family kenseikan somehow splayed in their hair, he realised with a jolt he was seeing the likenesses of the previous household leaders.

“Intimidating, isn't it?” Byakuya said under his breath.

“A little. These are your predecessors?” He asked.

“Yes,” there was a small nod, “From the very first Clan leader up until my grandfather, Ginrei. The busts are only displayed after the death of the previous leader.”

Ichigo hummed at the information before frowning, “What about your father?”

Byakuya glanced down at him in surprise, seemingly not having expected the question, “My father, Sōjun, was killed in action. He did not live to become a Clan leader.”

“I... I'm sorry, I didn't know.” The strawberry muttered, sighing softly, “That must have been hard.”

“Not really.” He said, looking ahead, “Surprisingly, I dealt with it rather well. Although, I always was a little colder afterwards.”

Norio lead them down the staircase into the underground chamber, and Ichigo was promptly reminded of a court room as he laid eyes on the spiral of seats which ran around the room in a descending ring, giving way to a flat level of wooden flooring which was apparently where he and Byakuya were expected to stand.

Ichigo watched with a faint glare as Norio slipped into the Head Elder's chair which was directly in front of them, but elevated enough to give him meaning to the air of superiority he clearly enjoyed so much.

Flinching in surprise as Byakuya grasped his hand tightly, fingers entwining boldly, he glanced at his lover and saw a distinctive twinkle in his eyes, one which he could only describe as rebellious, it forced a smirk to twitch its way onto his lips as he looked back up at the Head Elder.

“Do you know why you have been asked to come here, Byakuya-sama?” Norio asked, sitting back smugly in his seat, hands crossed over his lap.

“Yes.” The heir responded with a chill in his voice, “You find my choice of lover distasteful.”

“Correct. The Council has ruled that you will cease your interactions with this commoner besides what is required through your work, although it is worth noting that we are already checking open positions in other Divisions to remove him from his current one as we speak.” The Head Elder could barely contain his glee as he spoke, knowing his words would hit the mark, “We are also in the midst of conversing with the other noble clans, as it is high time you remarried. This time to a noble of equal standing.”

“Excuse me?” Byakuya's voice couldn't have been calmer, or more deadly, “I didn't realise you had the authority to meddle in the affairs of _my_ Division, nor to force marriage upon me. I categorically refuse.”

Ichigo glanced at the nobleman beside him, he could almost feel the anger rolling off his shoulders in rippling waves. He held his tongue for the time being, waiting to hear from Shiro before he made any attempt to interrupt the current argument occurring over his head.

“I'm afraid you cannot refuse. It has been decided by the Council, and on this, our word is final.” Norio snorted, sitting forwards slowly, “Unless you can provide us with a good enough reason as to why we should not move to prevent any further dalliances between the two of you?”

“Aside from the obvious point that it is far beyond your pay grade to tamper in such matters?” Steel eyes were narrowed to mere slits by this point.

“You have forced out hand with such actions. We will not allow the Kuchiki line to become dirtied by common blood. We risked it once with Hisana, and thankfully she died before she was able to conceive a child-”

“Thankfully?!” There was barely an inch of control left as Byakuya clenched Ichigo's hand so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“ _ **Hit 'em like a brick shit house, Aibou.”**_ Shiro's voice was a welcome one within his head and Ichigo had to fight not to smirk, this was going to be fun.

“At what point did this stop being about me being a man, and start being about my 'common' blood?” Ichigo asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow, “I was under the impression your main qualm was my gender.”

Norio's face contorted into an expression of disgust and disappointment, “On the contrary, due to the superior talent nobility possess in the manipulation and control of reiatsu, a way was 'conceived' to allow homosexual couples to create an heir for their Clan. There have been very few instances of that happening, however.”

“I wonder why.” Byakuya hissed.

Humming softly at the information, Ichigo shrugged, “I will not cease any 'further dalliances' with Byakuya, and I fear you have no authority to make that happen.”

“Ichigo...” Byakuya's voice was a quiet warning.

“Have you listened to nothing that has been said, Dog?” The Head Elder snarled, standing up sharply and slamming his hands on the desk in front of him, “We will _not_ have another one of your kind in this family.”

Scoffing, he released Byakuya's hand and took a few measured steps forward, stopping only when he was right in front of Norio's podium, he looked up at him with a cocky smirk, “I have listened to everything you have said. And now, you will listen to me instead. I have a friend just outside, I suggest you let her in, she's rather impatient.”

Norio paused, and almost immediately his face seemed to pale as he sensed the reiatsu lingering on the other side of the door, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face, “What is the meaning of this?”

“I distinctively remember Byakuya saying that you're vastly skilled at sensing reiatsu. It should be fairly obvious, for a man of your distinction, to understand the meaning behind this. Why don't you allow my guest to come and clear up any... Confusion for you.” Ichigo tilted his head slightly, allowing his own degree of smugness to creep out.

Teeth clenched, the Head Elder nodded to the guards by the doors, and with a low creek they were opened, allowing Ichigo's visitor access to the chambers. The strawberry turned on the spot as he watched Kūkaku descend the stairs with her mixture of elegance and arrogance, she flashed a wink at Byakuya before standing beside Ichigo.

“Yo, Kūkaku. Thanks for coming.”

“Like I'd miss out on something as juicy as this, _little cousin_ Ichi.” She smiled widely, slinging her wooden arm around his shoulders, “Got into a pickle with the prigs I see?”

“C-Cousin?” Norio breathed, eyes widening slightly.

“Cousin.” Ichigo confirmed, folding his arms, “Sorry for any... Confusion, Norio. But, ah, you see my name wasn't originally Kurosaki. It's Shiba. I must have forgotten to mention it, so sorry.”

Byakuya stared at them, wondering at what point Ichigo had discovered his heritage and why he hadn't mentioned it sooner. Certainly there had been a lot going on but they had spent long enough talking that the younger man would have had chance to speak of it. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride as he saw Ichigo stepping into the role of being the person he was meant to be, rather than the person he had been crafted to be.

“I'm assuming I was summoned to support his claims,” Kūkaku mused, shrugging slightly, “Ichigo's father was my uncle, Isshin Shiba! Not only that, but my uncle was the true Clan leader at the time of his death. I suggest you start apologising for calling him a Dog, because all this time... You've been talking to someone far more superior than yourself!”

“Wait, what?” Ichigo stared at her, “Did you conveniently forget to mention that when I saw you last?”

“Must have... Slipped my mind.” She grinned wickedly at him.

Norio was fuming, it was clear for anyone to see, he clenched his fists and glowered down at the three nobles, “Very well. If you are indeed so intent upon forcing your way into this family, Kurosaki, then a part of this family you shall become. Marry him.”

“What?” Ichigo almost squeaked.

“Marry Byakuya Kuchiki, and bring a union between the Kuchiki family, and the Shiba family. Or are you all talk, and no action?” The Head Elder seemed smug again.

“You have no right to demand such a thing!” Byakuya snapped, stalking forward to stand beside his lover.

“I am demanding nothing, if the boy cares for you as he seems to, then he will have no problem with accepting such terms. Will he?” There was a coy smirk there now.

Ichigo clenched his jaw tightly, scowling up at the Head Elder, “If marriage will finally silence you on the matter, then I accept.”

“What?” Byakuya and Norio said at the same time.

* * *

“What are you _playing_ at?” Byakuya demanded in a growl as he shut the door to his private quarters, in the Division, behind them, “ _Marriage_?!”

Ichigo wandered off into the small kitchen to make a snack, “Do I detect something which suggests you find that idea of marrying me... Unattractive?”

The Taichou spluttered and followed him, “That is not what I am saying. But are you really ready for this? It is an awful lot of pressure, a lot of work, and a lot of commitment! I didn't want this for you! You've been through so much and you're only just coming out the other side. This should have been a private discussion between the two of us... Somewhere down the line.”

“So you had given some thought to the idea?” He mused.

“Don't be ridiculous, Ichigo, of course I have!” He frowned, leaning against the door frame, “You were willing to sacrifice yourself to save my sisters' life, and my life. You proclaimed to love me despite having previously said you believed yourself incapable of such feelings. How could I not hope for the best?”

Ichigo's fingers hovered over his plate at his words and frowned faintly, “Hope for the best? Is that really what you think this is? So far all I've heard is your concerns for my well being while you seem to give no thought to your own.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was a traitor. I threatened to kill you. I would have killed you, and anyone else who got in the way of what Aizen wanted.” He glanced over at him, “But you never gave up on me. For some reason, some unexplainable reason, you decided I was worth saving despite everything I had done. Even when you discovered the depths of the damage done to me you persisted.”

Byakuya approached slowly, sliding a hand up his spine and resting it in the soft tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “What are you getting at, Ichigo?”

Sighing deeply, he turned and encircled the noble's waist with his arms, “My point is that... While it may be rushed, and not at all what we were expecting... This is without a doubt the best _I_ could have have hoped for.”

His expression softened instantly and he leaned in, capturing his lips with his own, “I do not care for your past, I do not care for how damaged you may be. You are the love of my life, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

“As you are mine, Byakuya Kuchiki.” Cheeks flushing faintly as he returned the kiss, grip tightening as he allowed himself to be pulled closer.

Parting after a long moment, Byakuya brushed one of his cheeks with the pad of his thumb, “So... When did you meet Kūkaku?”

“The day Norio came to the mansion and I went for a walk. My legs carried me to her home.” He admitted, “I meant to tell you but... With everything going on it just slipped my mind. Although, I had no idea that I was... The rightful head of the family.”

“Indeed... I thought she would have told you when you met her.”

“You knew?” Ichigo made a face of disbelief.

The raven haired noble cleared his throat and shifted his weight, “I... Became privy to your birthright when I visited your Inner World. I am aware I should have told you but... Somehow it seemed like something you should discover on your own.”

The strawberry hummed slightly at his answer, giving a small one shoulder shrug, “I'm not mad. You're right, it was something I had to find out.”

Byakuya smiled gratefully at his understanding before he pulled back sharply, appraising him for a long moment, “By the Soul King, what am I doing? My grandfather would be disgraced if he saw me right now.”

“What do you mean?” He blinked.

“He was a traditionalist, in every sense of the word.” The noble swiped his tongue across his lips before hastily lowering himself onto one knee, “Allow me to do this officially, rather than the moment being garnered by an interfering busy body.”

Eyes widening slightly, Ichigo felt his face heat up as his hand was taken by the raven haired man, “Oh, well... If it pleases you...”

A small chuckle escaped Byakuya before he spoke again, “You _are_ the love of my life, Ichigo Kurosaki. So I ask you now, will you do me the greatest honour and consent to be my husband?”

Smiling almost shyly, the strawberry haired noble nodded, “I most certainly will.”

The sound of the door slamming open made both men look around as Rukia and Renji burst into her brother's private quarters, the woman's eyes widening as she took in the scene before her, “What the fuck is going on?!”

* * *

Leaning against the stone banister encapsulating the veranda leading from the King's Suite, Sōsuke Aizen glowered at the never ending darkness of Hueco Mundo with a calculated narrowing of his eyes, jaw set firmly as his teeth clenched to an almost painful extent. His mouth sealed into an even tighter line as he sensed movement behind him.

“Gin.” His voice was sharp.

“How did ya know it was me, Aizen Taichou?” The silver haired fox grinned widely as he came to stand beside him, “I never can get the drop on ya. Even when yer mad.”

“What do you want, Gin?” The brunet sighed, in no mood for his accomplice's teasing.

“I wondered if you'd heard the news yet, from Soul Society?”

“News?” He glanced around at him, “If it is anything short of Yamamoto dying, I'm not interested.”

Gin seemed to pout momentarily, leaning in closer and opening his eyes just a fraction, “Not even if it is to do with a very temptin' berry?”

Straightening abruptly, Aizen faced him, frowning at the amusement splayed so openly on that fox like face, “There is news about Ichigo?”

“Ya mean apart from him havin' butchered one of the Espada without any assistance? Oh yes, there's news.”

Yammy's death had been a surprise to everyone, increased only by Ulquiorra's report that Ichigo had managed to slaughter him single handedly with only slight assistance from his Inner Hollow. It was clear to Aizen, at least, how much his favourite experiment had continued to grow despite their differences and it gave him hope. Yammy had yet to be replaced.

“What have you heard?” He asked.

“There is to be a weddin'.” Gin lifted a hand to his mouth to hide his amusement, “A noble weddin' of all things. The joining of the Kuchiki family and the Shiba family. Looks to me like Ichi-Berry has been makin' some headway in rememberin' his past.”

If his sudden swing towards anger showed, Gin didn't flinch, but Aizen felt it roll over him like a blackened storm at his announcement, “If this is some ill conceived joke, Gin...”

“No, no... Look I have the report here.” It was presented as the silver haired Shinigami's grin only widened, “What are ya gonna do, Aizen Taichou?”

Chocolate eyes swept the document swiftly, mood darkening further at the truth of the news Gin had delivered, “Summon Ulquiorra... And tell him to bring someone of his choice.”


	36. Drink, Danger, Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebration and merriment follows the news of Ichigo and Byakuya's engagement, and a night out in Rukongai leads to drunken jokes and dancing for Ichigo and his friends.

Ichigo dropped his head down on his desk with a thump, yawning hugely as he allowed himself a moment of reprieve in the knowledge he had caught up on all his paperwork. Slowly pushing himself up and flopping back in his chair, he sighed heavily, running a hand down his face.

It had been six days since they had returned to Soul Society, and ever since the meeting with the Kuchiki Elders, he had been fighting to get his affairs in order. Renji had done an excellent job of running the Division in the absence of the Taichou and Third Seat, but he was as lazy as could be when it came to paperwork.

Chuckling to himself as he recalled the expressions on the faces of Renji and Rukia upon discovering the engagement. While startled, apparently it wasn't unexpected to either of them and they had been over the moon, insisting upon a celebration as soon as they were settled back in. Rukia had also made it more than a little clear that if Ichigo ever hurt her brother she would personally castrate him. He wouldn't have been concerned if it hadn't been for the deadly seriousness of her expression at the time.

The news of their engagement was only tempered slightly when Renji, that same day, finally asked Byakuya his permission to begin officially courting Rukia. Byakuya had agreed without argument, taking everyone but Ichigo by surprise. It seemed the noble had been telling the truth, he really had wanted to see how long it would take his Fukutaichou to gain the courage to approach him.

“T-Taichou? I... I'm not sure you... Heard me properly...” Renji had spluttered, dumbfounded by Byakuya's acceptance of the situation, “I-I... Wish to date Rukia, like... Be a-a couple...”

The Kuchiki heir had simply peered up from over the rim of his tea cup, and in the most droll; blunt and Byakuya-like voice, responded: “I have ears, Abarai. At least the last time I checked they were fully functional.”

Giggling at the memory as he set his paperwork aside, Ichigo was happy. Truly happy. It felt like everything was finally slipping into place. He had already contacted his friends in the World of the Living to share his good news, as well as promising them invites to the actual wedding when it came. According to Byakuya, the event itself would not be held until the threat of Aizen's operation was over, so they were looking forward to an extended engagement.

During that time, according to Kūkaku, Ichigo would undergo an official ceremony to become the current Head of the Shiba Clan, taking the temporary title from her shoulders. He'd expected her to be reluctant to hand it over, but in bizarre fashion she was in fact more than content to see him thrive. He was nervous about it, but Byakuya seemed confident that he would excel and that settled him a little.

Rising from his seat, Ichigo left his office, locking the door behind him and accepting the many waves and greetings he received as he made his way to his private quarters.

As strange as it seemed, at least to him, the greetings he now garnered from the other Shinigami of Division Six were no longer drawn by the colour of his hair or his moody attitude, everyone knew the story of Sôkyoku Hill. Everyone knew who he was. To an extent, he'd become something of a celebrity, a shining example of what hard work could achieve. Scary.

It had been decided by the powers that be, namely Renji, that the celebration of his engagement would be that evening. Of course, there had been input from Matsumoto so the evening was bound to consist of drinking until they couldn't walk straight.

He was only glad he had finished work early enough to get ready without having to rush. Ichigo headed straight for the bathroom, locking the door behind him before making quick work of stripping out of his shihakusho, discarding it in the wash basket next to the sink.

Flicking the shower on, he leaned against the wall, giving the water time to heat up fully as he gave some serious consideration to getting drunk, a luxury he rarely gave himself these days. Byakuya had been invited to the drinking festivities, naturally considering he was part of the reason for it but had been forced to decline, citing something about having too much to do.

Ichigo had been disappointed initially at the news that he would be deprived the chance of seeing his fiancé sporting an alcohol induced blush, but soon recovered. Nothing had been able to keep his mood anything short of sky high recently.

As he stepped into the shower, he caught sight of himself in the full body length mirror that was tucked in the corner of the bathroom, turning slightly so he could once again inspect the recently formed black swirling pool of tribal ink on his right forearm. According to Byakuya, it had appeared the same day as their interrogation in the Elder Chambers, something to do with him having accepted his bloodline.

Upon some reading, Ichigo had discovered that Shiba Clan leaders all bore tattoos of some description, marking them as the governing body. Kaien's had been in a similar place to his own, while Kūkaku's was on her upper arm, but hers would apparently fade once he was made the legitimate heir of the household. From the research he had done, Ichigo learned that as he accepted more and more responsibility, accepted more of who he was, he would gain more such markings.

Renji had teased him initially, sly comments about him trying to copy the Fukutaichou's look. A sparring match in the back garden of the Kuchiki mansion had left Ichigo the victor, forcing Renji to nurse his wounded pride. The new marking seemed well received by his fiancé however, who had taken to tracing it with his fingertips whenever they were alone, apparently determined to add the intricate whorls to memory.

Washing quickly, he jumped back out of the shower and began patting himself dry, taking his time to make sure he'd look half decent for the get together. It wouldn't do to show up looking like anything less than someone befitting his position, he had been warned. That was something he'd have to get used to.

Coming to stand in front of the mirror again once he was dressed, he brushed the soft fabric of his sleeveless yukata, content that the maroon shade complimented his complexion. He dragged his fingers through his hair restlessly, noting how much it had grown recently, at its longest it was brushing level with his shoulders while his fringe tickled level with his eyelids.

Ichigo clicked his tongue against his teeth reaching over to the bathroom counter were a single ivory coloured kenseikan rested. It had been a gift from Byakuya, a symbol of his acceptance into the Kuchiki family, as well as an engagement present seeing as neither of them had arranged to get rings yet.

He hadn't worn it in public yet, while not embarrassed he found himself feeling somewhat shy at the concept of so openly declaring himself to the world and all it's prying eyes. It was bad enough that the Shinigami Women's Association were vying to get an article printed about the up and coming nuptials, often aided by Rukia's uninhibited access to both Ichigo and Byakuya.

A smile twitched at the strawberry's lips as he lifted the ornate hair piece, more than a little adept at slotting it into place due to having helped Byakuya so many times, since the loss of usage in his left arm. He tilted his head to the side when the kenseikan was nestled snugly against his left temple, drawing some of his crazed locks back from his face. It looked like it belonged there, and that realisation made his heart swell with pride, a warm smile finding its way onto his lips, almost without permission.

Glancing at the sword stand where Zangetsu was precariously balanced, he considered taking the Zanpakutō along, he always felt just that little bit naked without the huge blade at his back, and yet he decided against it. There was no way he could comfortably drink himself into unconsciousness with the risk of losing the other part of his soul.

“One of these days I'm going to force you out of Shikai.” He grumbled as he left.

“ _You are welcome to try, Ichigo.”_ Zangetsu's voice was smug and teasing.

They both knew he would never manage to shrink the sword down, even if he spent the next century trying to contain his reiatsu.

* * *

The walk to Rukongai was quiet, but almost as soon as his destination came into view he could see a small army of people waiting outside.

“Ichigo!” Renji's voice drew attention to him as he made his way closer and he lazily lifted a hand to return the greeting.

“Yo!” He grinned, “Did you leave anyone on duty today Renji?”

“Not if it could be helped!” The redhead grinned massively.

Indeed that seemed the case. The strawberry haired Third Seat wasn't at all surprised to see the likes of Matsumoto, Ikkaku or Yumichika among their numbers, the three of them often rotated in the same drinking circle. Although, now he considered it, he wasn't sure he had ever actually seen Yumichika drunk, the prim and proper Shinigami seemed to know just when to stop before becoming so inebriated he was no longer 'beautiful'.

Also not surprising, was the presence of Hisagi and Kira, the pair also often went drinking with Matsumoto so it wasn't shocking to see them. Rukia was there too, which he'd expected. Although Ichigo found his head tilting curiously at the sight of Hinamori, Yoruichi and Urahara, but the final straw was definitely seeing Ukitake, Kyōraku and Hitsugaya.

He definitely hadn't predicted three current Taichou, and two former Taichou joining them.

“We couldn't let such a monumental event as this go unmarked, Kurosaki-san.” Ukitake smiled brightly at him, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, “It's not every day the Saviour of Sôkyoku gets engaged!”

He groaned at the name people had given him, but couldn't bring himself to be angry with the kindest Taichou in Seireitei for using it, “Are you sure you wouldn't rather use the Hero from Hell? I hear that one is quite popular as well.”

Kyōraku released a deep laugh at his sarcasm, “No one here would ever entertain such an opinion of you, Ichigo-san. No matter who or what you may be, your determination to protect people is well known by everyone.”

Ichigo shifted under his gaze, Byakuya had told him that both Ukitake and Kyōraku were aware of his previous affiliation with Aizen, so he had no doubt that the Division Eight Taichou's words held some form of double meaning. An accepting one at that.

“Renji mentioned you'd joined the ranks of the inked, but I didn't quite believe it until now.” Hisagi smirked, casting his eye over the ringlets on Ichigo's arm, “Future Head of the Shiba Clan, huh? You sure kept that one quiet.”

“Could be worse, I could have a ridiculous number stamped on the side of my face, _Mr Sixty Nine_.” He returned the jab with a teasing sneer before shrugging, “But seriously, tell me about it, I had no idea until recently either.”

“Hopefully Kurosaki-san's new found fame won't go to his head too much,” Urahara's voice came from behind the fan he was fluttering, “It wouldn't do for his ego to grow anymore than it already has.”

“Don't make me come over there and shut you up.” The strawberry growled, “My ego is perfectly minimal, thank you very much.”

“Really?” Yoruichi joined in, slinging her arms around Urahara's shoulders, “So you didn't preen yourself in front of the mirror for hours today? I thought more of Little Byakuya's personality would have _rubbed off_ on you by now.”

“What's wrong with preening?” Yumichika saved Ichigo the trouble of scolding the woman as one of his hands brushed against his bob of dark locks, “Personally I think Ichigo looks better than he has in a long time, someone as beautiful as him should take pride in their appearance.”

“B-Beautiful?” He spluttered, “I'm far from that!”

“Don't sell yourself short, Ichigo.” Ikkaku snorted, “If Yumichika's telling you that, it must be true, at least to some degree.”

“Ne, ne, don't let Kuchiki Taichou hear you saying that,” Matsumoto pouted, tapping a finger to her chin, “He'd probably slice you into ribbons for telling our dear berry-head something that should only be spoken of by him.”

Kira looked uncomfortable surrounded by so many people, but smiled faintly at Ichigo, “It's good to see you happy, Kurosaki-san.”

Ichigo murmured his thanks before glancing at the short and yet imposing figure of Tōshirō Hitsugaya, “I wouldn't have pictured this being your scene, Hitsugaya Taichou. Did Matsumoto bribe you?”

The white haired male glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and merely chuckled under his breath, “Hardly. But someone had to come and make sure you don't make a complete fool of yourself.”

“And somehow that ended up being you?” His lips twitched towards a smirk.

“Let's just say, Byakuya Kuchiki owes me a favour now.” The other returned his smirk smugly.

Rukia approached and reached up, gently brushing the hair ornament nestled in his orange locks, “It suits you, Ichigo.” Her smile couldn't have been more genuine if she'd tried, “I'm glad you've started wearing it in public.”

“Took me a while to get over the nerves.” He admitted, “But what have I got to be nervous about really? Showing people what I think of him?”

“It is a rare honour to be presented with a kenseikan when you are not a direct heir of the Kuchiki Clan. You should indeed wear it with pride!” She poked his forehead gently with her index finger and turned to Renji, “Are we getting this started then or not?!”

Ichigo laughed to himself as the small horde of people made their way into the unsuspecting bar, pausing as he saw Hinamori linger back, her eyes fixed on him. He felt a momentary flutter of anxiety rush through him. It was the first time he had seen the Division Five Fukutaichou since before Aizen's defection; he didn't know if she was aware just how little Aizen truly thought of her, despite all his behaviour suggesting the opposite, but she looked like a shadow of her former self.

“Momo.” He forced a weak smile, “It's good to see you again.”

“And you, Kurosaki-kun.” Her voice was timid as she bowed her head, “Forgive me, I was hoping to ask you something.”

“What's is it?” He swallowed.

Her eyes met his slowly and she straightened her back, apparently summoning her courage, “I don't mean to bring it up when you are supposed to be celebrating, but I haven't had chance to see you since... Everything happened. It's... About Aizen Taichou...”

He felt his heart drop slightly and he reached out, resting his hands on her shoulders, “Momo, its alright. You can ask me anything. I'll give you an honest answer.”

“Thank you, Kurosaki-kun...” She licked her lips, “Everyone has been saying... Such terrible things about Aizen Taichou, and... I know how close the two of you used to be. I figured that if anyone would know the truth it would be you. Has he really betrayed Soul Society? Is there no chance that it was Ichimaru Taichou who made him do it?”

Ichigo didn't want to consider just how much she knew about his closeness to the ex-Taichou, but he sighed softly, “Gin is just a subordinate. I know its hard to believe but Aizen _is_ the one in charge. I'm sorry I can't give you what you want.”

Tears welled in her eyes but she forced them back, giving him a single firm nod, “Its fine, I appreciate your honesty.” She gulped and stared for a long moment at his face, “You are happier now, than you were back then. If Aizen Taichou wasn't making you happy with whatever was going on between you then... Maybe that should tell me all I need to know.”

“You're very perceptive.” He smiled weakly.

She shrugged and pulled back, a shy grin finally appearing on her face, “Let's go and enjoy your party, Kurosaki-kun!”

He offered his arm to her and nodded in agreement, “Let's show them what stern stuff Division Five is really made of.”

The sight of their friends already ordering drinks made them both cringe, neither of them had ever had a particularly strong stomach for alcohol, but as they joined the table they made a silent pact to do their best and enjoy themselves.

Despite being in the presence of three current and two former Taichou, none of them felt overly intimidated by their presence, especially not when everyone knew that Kyōraku was capable of drinking them all under the table with ease. While off duty the man behaved like one of the gang, telling jokes and buying them drinks with an enthusiasm Nanao would have been horrified to witness.

“Okay, okay!” Kyōraku slapped his hand on the table top as he finished another bottle of saké off, “I've got another joke. Did you hear about that new restaurant, the one called Karma? There's no menu – you get what you deserve!”

Ichigo was sure that if it hadn't been because of the fuzzy intoxication of alcohol he would have slapped himself, but instead he found himself roaring with laughter along with everyone else. Kyōraku had a wicked sense of humour, but it appeared his jokes got worse the more he drank.

“I've got one!” Urahara sprang to his feet, swaying dangerously on the spot as he giggled to himself, “Why... Hehe, why doesn't... Division Twelve trust... Atoms?” He gave a dramatic pause, face flushed, “B-Because... Because... Hehe... They make everything up!”

There was a collective groan, Ichigo shook his head and grabbed another drink as it was poured. The jokes were definitely getting worse.

“What's the difference,” Matsumoto began loudly, “Between being hungry, and being horny?”

Yoruichi let out a howl of laughter, she clearly already knew the answer but clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself saying it.

“Where you stick the cucumber!” The busty Fukutaichou exclaimed.

“Oh my God.” Hitsugaya muttered, holding his head in his hand as he sipped his water.

“Rangiku-san!” Hinamori gasped, “You can't make jokes... Hic... Like that!”

“Hic... Is it a joke though?” Ikkaku smirked, “Or is she speaking from experience?!”

“You cheeky fucker!” Renji barked through his own breathless cackles as Hisagi smacked the bald Third Seat around the back of the head.

Another round of drinks came and went, saké never lasted long enough. Ichigo felt the fuzziness in his head growing, his face felt hot and his mouth ached from smiling so much. He snorted suddenly as he remembered a joke Gin had told him once.

“I think our esteemed... Hic... Guest finally has one to share!” Rukia smirked, nudging Ichigo in the ribs.

Eyes wide and shook his head, “Nah, nah, nah no way... It's... Hic... T-Terrible...”

“It can't be worse than Matsumoto's!” Renji protested.

“It fuckin' can.” He muttered, groaning as he realised they wouldn't let it drop, “Alright, alright... It's Christmas Eve... Hic, and a woman comes home to her husband after... Hic... A day of busy shopping. Later... When she's getting' undressed... He notices a mark on the inside... Of her thigh. He asks, 'what is that?' and she tells him she visited a tattoo parlour earlier that day. 'I had them tattoo Merry Christmas on one thigh, and Happy New Year on the other.' The husband... Hic... Is very confused. So she explains and says, 'now you can't complain... Hic, that there's never anything... To eat between Christmas and New Year!”

Yoruichi sprayed them all with saké as she choked on it, patting her chest hard as Urahara fell off his chair from laughing so hard. Ukitake covered his mouth with his hand to conceal the quiet giggle that escaped him as he watched Kyōraku roar with laughter so hard that he had to hold his stomach. Ichigo grinned sheepishly as he watched Matsumoto collapse over the table in a fit of shoulder shaking chuckles while Hinamori covered her mouth in stunned surprise. It was a decent reaction.

“Dirty bastard.” Renji snorted.

“It's nice to... Hic, finally see Kurosaki-san's sense of humour.” Ukitake offered a kind smile, “Long may it continue!”

“Come on Ichigo, let's dance!” Matsumoto grabbed his hands without warning and dragged him out of his chair with her.

“What? No, no... Hic... I don't dance!” He protested, struggling against her grip.

“Don't be a killjoy, this is a party!” Yoruichi gave him a firm shove on the ass.

“I don't dance!”

Ichigo let out a heavy sigh as he was forced onto the dance floor between several of the other patrons of the club, Matsumoto and Yoruichi were already dancing in time with the music, allowing their bodies to sway and weave against the notes. He watched as the strobe lights reflected off their skin and hair, they were looking at him expectantly as Hisagi, Rukia, Renji and Urahara found their way over too.

“Don't be a stick in the mud!” Yumichika hissed as he was twirled around by Ikkaku.

“Relax!” Rukia muttered as she passed him.

“This was easier when I didn't have to worry... Hic, about feeling embarrassed.” He growled.

The music swirled around him, deep and full of bass, almost seductive. He couldn't help but grin sheepishly as Matsumoto grabbed his hand again and pulled him closer, encouraging him to move with the rhythm of the music. It wasn't so bad. It was easier when he tried to think of it like one big fight, he'd often heard people saying that he seemed to dance across the battlefield.

His body loosened up and laughed as he watched the Division Ten Fukutaichou turn her back on him and gyrate against him. It was playful, nothing more. She'd known longer than most that he was only into guys. Probably because he'd never been drawn to stare at her breasts like most men were.

Feeling his senses relax, he lifted his arms and let himself go. Laughing freely as he found himself sandwiched between Matsumoto and Hisagi, much to the inked man's horror. He felt a hand take his, spinning him around playfully. He was sure he saw a flash of a pink kimono before he bumped into a firm chest, arms encircling him almost possessively.

“You look like you've been having fun.” Byakuya breathed over his ear.

“You made it!” He gasped, resting his hands on the man's chest, “I thought you were too busy!”

“I realised that spending time with my future husband was important. Forgive me for not realising it sooner.” The nobleman spun Ichigo elegantly before pulling him so close there was no space between them, “Should I be envious of your grinding against poor Hisagi Fukutaichou?”

Ichigo beamed, sliding his arms up around the man's shoulders as they came close together, “You know I only have eyes for you.”

Byakuya leaned down slowly, capturing his lips in a heated kiss which left them both breathless, “I am glad to hear it, but not nearly as pleased as I am to see you finally wearing the kenseikan.”

Flushing under his scrutiny, Ichigo couldn't help but do a little of the preening Yoruichi had previously teased him about, “I finally realised there was no reason not to wear it! I'm not embarrassed, I'm not ashamed. I'm proud to be your fiancé.”

A nuzzle under the strawberry's ear and a playful nip at his skin later, the Kuchiki heir spun them with the music, “I, for one, like what I see.”

“I should think so too, given how instrumental you've been in creating this new me.” The strawberry could feel some of the haze of the alcohol wearing off, his mind become a little clearer due to Shiro's influence, “What have you been doing today?”

Silent for a long moment, Byakuya rested his chin on Ichigo's head, humming softly, “I went to visit Hisana's resting place.”

“Seeking her guidance?” He mused.

“Indeed,” there was an affirmative nod, “Despite this being what I want, it felt right to-”

“Ask for her approval to move on?” Ichigo glanced up at him, “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Of course.” He said certainly, “You _loved_ her. You will _always_ love her. It makes sense to make your peace with her. It was the honourable thing to do.”

“You never cease to amaze me.” Byakuya breathed heavily through his nose, a smile touching his lips, “It was important to me to do it. And now that I have, I feel I can proceed with a clear conscience.”

“Then I am happy for you.” Ichigo leaned up and captured his lips fiercely, breaking away only when he heard a series of wolf whistles from Ikkaku and Yumichika.

Ichigo slipped a hand down and wrapped his fingers around the permanently bandaged left limb of his fiancé, rubbing his thumb firmly against his knuckles, he felt the smallest of twitches as Byakuya attempted to return to gesture. The attempt meant the world to him.

* * *

By the time Ichigo stumbled out of the drinking establishment their numbers had been severely reduced: Urahara and Yoruichi had left only a short time after Byakuya's arrival, citing something about not cramping anyone's style. Ukitake and Kyōraku had left almost an hour later, the white haired Shinigami reluctantly withdrawing from the festivities due to a particularly worrying bout of coughing, Kira had accompanied them. Yumichika and Ikkaku had departed two hours after that, the narcissistic Shinigami stating that Ikkaku would become ugly if he drank too much more, between them they carried an unconscious Hinamori home. Hitsugaya had disappeared without a trace, though no one was sure when.

The first spits of dawn were threatening to shoot over the horizon, Byakuya and Ichigo were supporting a very sensitive Matsumoto and a half asleep Hisagi with the help of Renji and Rukia. They joked jovially on their way through the streets, much to the chagrin of the pair who were already sporting impressive hang overs.

“H-How can you talk... So loudly... After so much drink?” Hisagi groaned, holding his head.

“I only had three alcoholic drinks.” Rukia replied.

“I have a high tolerance.” Renji added.

“I like watching you suffer.” Ichigo smirked, silently thanking Shiro's influence for keeping his own hang over at bay.

“Part of my training growing up was to have an insanely high tolerance to any form of outside substance which might be used to sway me.” Byakuya raised his eyebrows, “At best, I feel a little less moody.”

“I can't believe you'd admit something like that.” Rukia giggled to herself as she stared at her brother's back.

The Kuchiki heir chuckled softly and glanced over at her, “If anything you should thank Ichigo for that. I do believe he taught me to remove the metaphorical stick from my posterior.”

Renji stared at his Taichou, “Are you... Sure alcohol doesn't affect you?”

Ichigo watched happily as his fiancé merely flashed a sly smirk instead of replying and heaved Hisagi's arm a little more securely around his shoulder. He'd enjoyed his night, even if some of the guests had disappeared far earlier than he would have liked, it had been great. He made a mental note to thank Renji for organising it when they were a little less tired and a little more focused.

“ _ **Aibou!”**_

The smile slipped from his face quite abruptly when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he had a split second to blink and refocus before the most bizarre sensation washed over him, he twisted on the spot and grabbed Hisagi's Zanpakutō from the sheathe on his waist, muttering an apology as he lifted the blade in time to block the attack Shiro had sensed.

“Ichigo?!” He heard a chorus of voices as several pairs of eyes turned to see the source of the sudden ruckus.

Ichigo was glaring venomously up into the lone grey eye of the man who had attacked him, his senses were in overdrive as he felt an abundance of Hollow reiatsu from the intimidatingly tall figure. He was easily seven foot tall, with a spindly thin body, face set into a manic smile revealing a keyboard of upper teeth. His hair was jet black, hanging well past his slender shoulders, concealing some of the left side of his face and barely revealing the white eyepatch affixed over the optic.

He recognised the uniform, a billowing white coat with an overblown spoon-like hood, opening starting at the neckline and showing most of his midsection, closing only at his waist, his hakama looked standard until it reached his ankles, where it seemed to tighten and close inside the extended and curved boots he wore.

“Espada?” He breathed.

“Heh, clever boy.” The tall man replied, “Gotta admit, I didn't expect anyone to sense me coming.”

“Unlucky for you then.” Ichigo spat, allowing a glimmer of gold to enter his usually chestnut gaze, “You picked the wrong person to attack.”

“Hmph. So yer Kurosaki.” Apparently he was disappointed, “Aizen-sama's little pet.”

“What did you call me?” He hissed, fingers tightening around the borrowed Zanpakutō, wishing it was Zangetsu.

“Arrancar, I suggest you leave now.” Byakuya's voice cut through the tension like a knife, Senbonzakura drawn and already pointing in their direction, “If you've stumbled here by accident, which I doubt, I will give you one chance to retreat. However, if you have come here to purposefully inflict harm upon my fiancé, I will cut you down without hesitation.”

Ichigo watched as the Espada seemed to consider the noble's words with interest, although he wasn't at all keen on how that lone grey eye appraised Byakuya from head to toe and back again, lingering in all the wrong places just long enough to make his temper edge towards a more dangerous territory.

“It's a generous offer.” The Espada stepped back from Ichigo quite abruptly and sheathed his sword, folding those impossibly long arms with a smirk, “I ain't got a grudge against yer boy.”

“ _ **Aibou, I don't like this.”**_

“ _Me neither.”_ He agreed silently, clenching his teeth before he glanced down at Hisagi, who now seemed far more alert.

“Then, I'll say, I am uncertain how you gained entry to Soul Society without raising any form of alarm, but I suggest you use it as an exit, and leave.” Byakuya lifted Senbonzakura only slightly.

The Espada raised an eyebrow, head tilting to one side as he stared down at the little group of Shinigami, apparently considering his options before his smile widened greatly, “Nah, I don't think so.”

Moving almost too fast for Ichigo to track, the Espada's hand shot out, gliding past him towards Hisagi's exposed neck; the strawberry felt his body turning of its own accord and he coiled himself around his friend, teeth biting into his lip before he let out a shout as he felt nails drag down his shoulder.

“ _Shiro!”_

“ _ **On it!”**_ The pale version of himself shot from his spine, body twisting like fluid as he flipped in the air, sending his heels into the Espada's face with a brutish force only he could muster, his own grin flashing brightly as he shot forwards, following up his assault with several punches and grips designed to inflict pain rather than damage.

Ichigo let out a breath, glancing over his shoulder as he watched the source of his Hollow power holding his own and instantly dropped Hisagi's Zanpakutō back into the Fukutaichou's waiting hands, turning and sprinting towards his Inner Hollow, he wasn't sure what he could do without Zangetsu to hand, but one thing was sure, if Shiro could go toe to toe with an Espada while weaponless, he sure as hell wasn't going to let him have all the fun.

“Switch!” He yelled as he drew close, leaping at the last moment as Shiro spun around, grabbing his outstretched hand and hauling him towards the staggering Arrancar mercilessly,

He planted both feet in the tall man's chest, throwing him into a nearby building and landing just a few feet from his pale double, dusting his hands before he offered a grin to his counterpart, receiving one in return.

The exchange was short lived as a bolt of yellow shot from the building and struck him in the side, throwing him through the building opposite, the searing heat of the Cero scorching straight through his clothes and leaving a smouldering burn on his hip. He barely had time to move before Shiro was thrown in after him and their beings melded back together again.

“ _ **Shit, he's tough.”**_

“Yeah, yeah, tell me about it.” The strawberry grunted as he got to his feet, carefully clambering out of the hole he'd made in the wall and wincing as he saw the Espada hailing blows on Hisagi and Renji.

A flash of cerise caught his attention and he saw the elegant petals of Senbonzakura's Shikai drifting around the edges of the battle field. Byakuya didn't look impressed, his face set like stone. Ichigo's eyes travelled back to the petals dusting the floor and a thought occurred to him, they were tiny miniscule blades, refracting the light around them to create the illusion of flowers. That was what Renji had told him, right?

He lunged forwards, snagging a fistful of bright pink and hissing as he felt the blades stinging his skin, cutting into his palm until he saw blood dripping down his arm. He refused to release them as he ran back towards his friends, ducking Zabimaru's Shikai as it shot over head, skidding through the dust between the Espada's legs and at the last moment releasing the bundle of blades he'd scooped up, thrusting them straight into his face.

Ichigo heard a howl of pain as he was splashed with crimson, rolling and jumping to his feet as he took a good look at his handiwork. The Espada was clutching his face with one hand and his Zanpakutō with the other, blood was sprayed down his front and over his hands.

“You little fuck! You think yer better than me?!” Came the howl of anger, “Me? Nnoitra Gilga?!”

“Oh, we're at the name sharing point huh?” Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, heaving a sigh before he glanced around, “Where's Rukia and Matsumoto?”

“I sent them to warn Seireitei.” Byakuya responded almost silently, “They will return with reinforcements as soon as they can, we merely have to keep this beast at bay until then.”

“Gotcha.” He glanced down at his hand, smiling faintly as he saw his cuts were already healing thanks to his Hollow, “Got a plan?”

“In a tight space like this? Not really.” The noble admitted, “Renji's Bankai will obliterate the nearby houses, my own will do significant damage as well. At best we must maintain his attacks at Shikai, while you... I really wish you knew how to use Kidō.”

“You and me both.” He cracked his neck and flexed his fingers, “But, even if I can't use conventional Kidō... I can use Cero.”

“Can you control it enough to avoid it damaging the buildings?” Renji hissed.

“I sure hope so.” He mused, lifting his hand.

The Espada, Nnoitra, lowered his hand from his face, revealing the ugly gouge left by Ichigo's surprise attack, skin was hanging loosely enough to reveal muscle and bone, but it was nothing compared to the raw fury on the man's face, “Aizen-sama... Told us not to harm you if possible... His little pet... Too valuable he said...”

“I am _not_... His pet.” Ichigo snarled, fingers tightening as he drew on Shiro's power, crimson light swirling into life.

“If it was anyone but us he had sent... You'd probably be able to do some real damage...” An insanely long tongue slid from between his teeth, revealing a Gothic number five as a honey coloured Cero began charging from the tip.

Ichigo's eyes widened slightly as a jolt of ice water ran through his body, this Espada was stronger than Grimmjow, “Shit.” He breathed, throwing his hand forwards and releasing the Cero with as much reiatsu behind it as he could muster.

Crimson and honey mixed between them as the two globes of power met and flittered a dangerous tango in the middle of the street, a gasp escaped Ichigo as he saw yellow burning through red, before in a moment of chilling accuracy the Espada's Cero shot towards him, aiming straight for his heart.

“Reap, Kazeshini.” Hisagi's voice was a calm cutting through a storm of turmoil as he threw himself in front of Ichigo, his two joined sickle-scythe like blades forming an cross in front of his body, absorbing the impact of the Cero the force of which threw him backwards into the Third Seat he had protected, forcing them both to the floor.

“H-Hisagi...” The strawberry winced, glancing at his friend and faltering as he found him to be unconscious, “Shit.” He said again.

“Which one of you is gonna block me this time?” Nnoitra's laughter was malicious, already charging another Cero on the tip of his tongue.

Accepting a hand from Renji, he got to his feet, making sure to move Hisagi out of the path of danger before joining his fellow Division Six comrades, standing between the Taichou and Fukutaichou, even while painfully aware he was abysmally weak without Zangetsu.

“ _Is there nothing you can do?”_

“ _ **Not without takin' over yer body, Sôkyoku style. To be honest, Aibou, I ain't sure I've got the strength to let go again if we do that.”**_ Shiro's voice was regretful, but honest.

“ _What about the merge we did against Yammy?”_ He swallowed thickly as the yellow Cero grew larger.

“ _ **He was the Décimo Espada... This guy is the Quinto...”**_ The Hollow's voice almost seemed to quiver, **_“I don't think we can beat him without a weapon.”_**

He felt the blood run from his face and he clenched his teeth, stepping forwards suddenly, “Wait!” He yelled, “You said you're not here for me! What are you here for?!”

Nnoitra seemed to grin around his tongue, raising a hand slowly and pointing one bone like finger towards Byakuya. The Cero released, shooting towards the three remaining Shinigami.

Ichigo was sure they were going to be obliterated, but just as the brilliant yellow was about to engulf them, a flaming explosion of emerald negated the Cero, causing Nnoitra to growl. A figure dropping down between them and appraising the Espada coolly.

“What do you think you are doing?” Ulquiorra's voice was as emotionless as ever, but there was an edge to his voice.

“Tch, what do _you_ think yer doing, Ulquiorra?” Nnoitra scowled, wide smile turning upside down.

Rather than replying, the stoic Espada planted his elbow in his comrade's stomach, something vaguely resembling a frown touching his face as the taller man doubled over, spitting blood and hissing profanities.

“We were told not to cause a scene. You truly were a poor choice of company, why I'm certain even Grimmjow is better at following orders.” The pale Espada's voice was apathetic, and yet there was that same bitter edge to it.

Then, the lithe Arrancar vanished and reappeared in front of Renji, a loud buzz filled Ichigo's ears and forced him to wince in discomfort. His eyes widened as he watched Renji hit the ground, blood running down the side of his face. The strawberry tensed as he saw mossy eyes flick to his face and he instantly jumped back, darting side to side as he watched Ulquiorra pursue him.

He swore inwardly at how useless he was without Zangetsu at his side, one thing was for sure: he was never leaving his room without that giant sword again, whether it impacted his drinking or not!

Lifting an arm sharply, he narrowly avoided a strike to the face but let out a low groan as the impact sent ripples of pain up and down his bones. He let out a shout as he took a kick to the gut, his body doubling up as his vision threatened to blacken with tiny spots, his muscles stiffening as a hand wrapped around his throat without warning.

“Why Aizen-sama has such an interest in trash like yourself I will never understand.” Ulquiorra's voice was quiet, harsh, almost angry, “You're weak, like a new born lamb desperately struggling to its feet before the wolf can latch onto its throat... Why would Aizen-sama want such a pitiful creature?”

Rasping for breath as he found himself lifted clean off his feet, Ichigo clawed at the pale fingers that were squeezing his windpipe with startling strength for someone so small. Chestnut eyes flashed gold, then back to normal, then gold again as both Shinigami and Hollow tried to compensate for the lack of air, saliva pooled in his mouth and spilled over as his face contorted, blood rushing through his ears in a deafening torrent until he was severed from all other senses as well, skin tingling as darkness tinged the corners of his eyes, a far removed feeling from when Shiro would take control.

Byakuya ducked out of the way of the long arms which attempted to ensnare him, eyes fixed widely on Ichigo, trying to get to him, trying to save him, trying to get him away from the overwhelmingly powerful Espada. He knew Ichigo had no head for sensing reiatsu, but surely even he could feel how different their levels were. It was immense. He was sure the smaller man could snap them both in half if the fancy took him.

“Ichigo!” He shouted, watching in horror as his fiancé's hands fell limply at his sides as unconsciousness or worse took him, felt felt anger replace his fear and a snarl escaped his pursed lips, “You _bastard_.”

“He is not dead, I rarely waste my time on trash.” The Espada murmured, glancing in his direction, the look freezing the Taichou in place, “But I will finish the job unless you surrender yourself to us now.”

Byakuya's mouth went dry at the ultimatum, he knew Ichigo would be furious if he surrendered to save his life. But what choice did he have? He couldn't sense any reinforcements anywhere near them. Had Rukia even made it to Seireitei? Ulquiorra had been absent since the start of the fight.

He couldn't comprehend it though... Why did they want _him_? Stealing Ichigo away from Seireitei he could understand, it would make sense for Aizen to try and claim him... But... This made no sense at all. Why was he the target?!

He flinched as he felt a firm chest press against his back, long arms wrapping around his body to hold him still, Nnoitra was relentless at best. He glowered at the smaller Espada, there was no lie in his eyes, regardless of Aizen's orders he would kill Ichigo if it ensured the capture of their current target.

Senbonzakura solidified back into a katana form in his hand and he sheathed the blade, closing his eyes as he allowed a long breath to escape through his nose, “I surrender to you.”

Taking a brief moment to appraise the crumbling state of the street, Ulquiorra dropped Ichigo disinterestedly to the ground, turning his back on the scene of the battle and snapping his fingers to open a Garganta, “Come Nnoitra, it is done. Aizen-sama will be waiting.”


	37. Ominous Presence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Byakuya Kuchiki's kidnap at the hands of Espada Ulquiorra Cifer and Nnoitra Gilga, Ichigo pleads with Yamamoto to let him go to Hueco Mundo to launch a rescue mission. Around the same time, or maybe a few days later, the Kuchiki heir learns why he was snatched, and his stay at Las Noches begins in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first completed the draft for Dark Hearts, the story was large enough to potentially split into a trilogy however after a lot of thought I decided to upload it as one huge story. For your knowledge, Chapter 36 concluded Arc 1 of Dark hearts, which I affectionately dub "The Rise" or "The Soul Society Arc". Now, Chapter 37 begins Arc 2, which I dubbed "The Fall" or... "The Hueco Mundo Arc". For your entertainment, the drama begins now!
> 
> Thank you as always for your support towards the story, it is hugely appreciated, I hope you continue to enjoy!

“I am going after him with or without your permission! I won't sit back and allow him to suffer because of me!” Ichigo snapped, hands balled into fists as he glowered at the Sou-Taichou, ignoring the multiple gasps from the other Taichou and Fukutaichou in the meeting room.

“You will _not_ leave Soul Society, Ichigo Kurosaki.” Yamamoto's voice was even but his narrowed eyes betrayed his anger, “I will not risk the lives of my men to rescue one man who may or may not already be dead. As regrettable as the situation is... Kuchiki Taichou would understand that we must address the good of many over the good of one.”

Rage rolled down Ichigo's shoulders, making his reiatsu flare out in tendrils of darkness that he was sure were almost visible, he was barely containing his own anger let alone Shiro's, “So you are happy... To sacrifice one of your own men... To someone like Aizen? It makes you no better than he is!”

“Happy? Not at all. But this is necessity.” The old man cracked his cane against the wooden floor, “Renji Abarai will assume temporary command of Division Six with you as his Fukutaichou. The Kuchiki Elders will be informed of what has happened and they will decide among themselves what to do.”

Ichigo drew himself to his full height and glared fearlessly down at the man, “You are a coward!” He said bluntly, turning his back on him before he stalked from the room without a hint of dismissal.

Byakuya had never abandoned him, even when it would have been wise to do so. He had remained, and helped him back from the brink of darkness. He had been willing to risk the good of the many for the good of one. He'd been willing to risk his own life. There was no way he could sit back and assume his lover was already dead, the man was far too tenacious for that.

His expression softened very slightly, “Of course, he'd just insist that he is persistent.” He muttered, a warm feeling rising in his chest at the memory.

“True enough.” The familiar voice of his best friend roused him from his thoughts, and Ichigo glanced around as he saw Renji catching up to him, “Sou-Taichou is furious with you, you know?”

“Then I had the desired effect.” He rebuked coolly, “I really don't care what he thinks of me.”

“You should,” Renji rubbed his chin, “Got a friend in Division Two, they told me that Yamamoto ordered Soi-Fon to reopen the investigation into Aizen's conspirators a few days ago. He suspects you, even though Taichou worked so hard to erase any evidence... I wouldn't put it past the old man to have you arrested with or without proof.”

“Tch, let him try.” Ichigo glared ahead as he walked with his friend towards Division Six.

His concern growing more pronounced, Renji rested a hand on the strawberry's shoulder, “Ichigo... Be careful. Between you and me, I think Kuchiki Taichou's presence was the only thing stopping Yamamoto arresting you from the start.”

Tensing, the Third Seat let out a long breath, “I'll watch my back, but... I can't believe he'd just let Byakuya rot there.”

“I know, I can't say I'm happy about it.” The redhead heaved a loud sigh, “If it's any comfort, only Division Two and Twelve are actually in agreement with Yamamoto's decision. Everyone else is in as much uproar as you are, only they're better at hiding it.”

“There's a certain irony to that, you know?”

“I know. Who'd have thought _you'd_ end up being the emotionally compromised one?” Renji's teasing was something of a comfort, but not much, the man's smile dropped away after a moment, “Why do you think Aizen wants Kuchiki Taichou?”

“I really wouldn't want to guess, but...” Ichigo sighed, coming to a stop outside of his private quarters, “But... If I _had_ to guess... He's bait.”

“Bait? For who... _Oh_...” There was a gulping sound from the Fukutaichou, “Aizen sure knows how to exploit a weak spot, huh?”

“Oh, believe me, I don't think there's a better manipulator out there.” Ichigo folded his arms and glared up at the sun, “If anyone knows that... It'd be me.”

“Don't beat yourself up about it, you saw the light in the end.” Renji patted his shoulder affectionately and offered a weak smile, “We'll work something out, Ichigo, I promise. For now... Just... Try and get some rest, they hit you pretty hard in Rukongai.”

He gave a non-committal grunt and let himself into his room, shutting the door a little harder than needed before he locked it and trudged into the bedroom. He threw himself down on the soft bedding and stared up at the ceiling with a scowl fixed in place.

His fingers silently danced over the muscle deep bruise around his throat, Ulquiorra had marked him, and Shiro's regenerative abilities hadn't been able to remove the ugly black and blue brand. It was probably a reminder to show which one of them was really stronger. It made him wonder just how much Aizen's Espada knew about him.

Ulquiorra had tried to kill him in the past, a case of mistaken identity in a bid to assassinate Byakuya, but there had been a certain amount of genuine toxicity in those dispassionate eyes in Karakura town. The hatred he recalled seeing made him wonder just how genuine that mistaken identity had been. After all, just because he had been kept in the dark about the Espada didn't mean it worked both ways. Grimmjow could have provided them with all the information they needed, even if Aizen had kept it a secret.

Rolling onto his side, Ichigo felt his heart aching. His fingers clutched tightly at his shihakusho as he felt his body quiver. He wasn't afraid of Ulquiorra. He wasn't afraid of Grimmjow or Nnoitra either. But he did fear what Aizen might have in store for Byakuya. There was so much bad blood there, and he knew better than anyone how cruel Aizen could be. He could break Byakuya mentally, beyond repair just by using Kyoka Suigetsu against him. Yet, that was nothing compared to what he could do physically.

The strawberry tasted bile as his mind wandered to dark places, the idea of his fiancé being subjected to some of the things Aizen had enjoyed doing to him. He couldn't imagine Byakuya's pride surviving such an encounter.

“I have to do something. I have to!” He sat up, teeth clenched as he glared at where Zangetsu was resting against the wall.

“ _ **We are with ya, Aibou, no matter what ya decide.”**_ Shiro's voice provided some comfort, if nothing else Ichigo could hear the strain hidden under layers of silvery tones. They were both hurting. Both suffering.

“ _Follow your instinct, Ichigo.”_ Zangetsu's dulcet tone was far more even, far more restrained than Shiro's was, but the strawberry could tell that the Zanpakutō Spirit also felt the loss of the bright spark in their lives. They all missed Byakuya. They all feared for him, _“We will follow you.”_

Standing suddenly, the strawberry sucked in a shallow breath, “They'll regret making this personal. If it's the last thing I do.”

He snatched up the large blade and sheathed it over his back before stalking out of his private quarters. If he could just reach the Senkaimon, he could get to Karakura town. If he reached Karakura town, he could find Urahara and maybe discover a way to Hueco Mundo. Urahara was the only person he could rely on for such a mission. Division Twelve would never help him without Yamamoto's permission. Division Twelve wasn't safe for him anyway, he had felt Kurotsuchi's eyes burning into him, longing to dissect, to investigate, to understand.

He headed straight for the main Senkaimon in and out of Seireitei, if he was quick he could slip through without drawing any attention to himself. Ichigo swore under his breath as he saw an abundance of additional security surrounding the portal, it wasn't surprising really given the recent infiltration of two Espada.

Watching carefully to see if there was a pattern to the movement of the patrolling guards, he shot forwards at the very last moment available to him. His breath hitched as his path to the Senkaimon was blocked almost immediately, skidding as he took a hasty step backwards at the sight of dozens of men and women garbed in skin tight black uniforms surrounded him. The Stealth Force.

He recoiled, sucking in a sharp breath as tension coiled in the pit of his gut. How had they known to be there?!

“Ichigo Kurosaki!” Soi-Fon appeared in front of him, her Shunpo was as fast as the rumours suggested.

Clenching his teeth, Ichigo felt his jaw click as he sucked in a breath, “Soi-Fon Taichou.”

“By order of the Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, I hereby place you under arrest. You will surrender your Zanpakutō and come with us willingly, or we will take you by force.” Her expression was as cold as ice and her tone more cutting than any blade.

His mouth fell open at her words, Renji had warned him of Yamamoto's suspicions but he hadn't expected it to actually come to pass, especially not this soon, forcing himself to straighten he looked down at her, “What are the grounds of my arrest?”

As the woman produced a thick pair of reiatsu suppressant shackles from within her uniform, she offered a mean smile, “Aside from the direct dereliction of your assigned duties, refusal to comply with orders given and your unwieldy Hollow side? You are suspected of aiding and abetting Sōsuke Aizen, murdering the previous Third Seat of Division Six, plotting the defeat of the Goeti Thirteen and providing top secret information to the enemy. You need not state your guilt or innocence here and now, you will be given such a chance when you are brought before the Sou-Taichou for judgement, in lieu of the current lack of Central 46's guidance.”

Taking a step back as she approached him, his throat constricted tightly as the feeling of entrapment washed over him. The accusations were so specific. Too specific. Almost as if someone had given her everything she needed to know. A traitor? Not one of his friends, he knew they'd never betray him.

“Soi-Fon Taichou... Please do not do this.” He said tersely, his voice shaking very slightly as he looked over her shoulder towards the Senkaimon, his expression turning angry as he watched the large doors seal shut over it, “I have to go to Hueco Mundo! Someone has to rescue Byakuya!”

“Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Kurosaki.” One of her hands was on the hilt of her Zanpakutō, “Surrender, or face the fury of the Stealth Force.”

He hissed in frustration, taking another step back as she continued to stride towards him. He couldn't afford an all out fight with the Stealth Force and their commander. Even on the off chance that he was capable of defeating them it would only add to his charges, it would only worsen his guilt.

If there really _was_ someone in Soul Society with information on his previous affiliation then he'd be in danger no matter what. He needed to figure out who it was, he had to cover his back. If there was someone out there capable of digging up information hidden by Yoruichi of all people... They were dangerous.

Scowling deeply as he let out a long breath, Ichigo reluctantly held his hands out to Soi-Fon. Almost immediately he felt the cold metal hit his skin, sapping his reiatsu, weakening him as they were snapped shut around his wrists. He emitted a growl as the small woman yanked his Zanpakutō free from its sheath, giving her a chilling look.

“You've made a wise decision, Kurosaki. Fighting us would have made your situation far worse.” She looked smug as she passed Zangetsu off to another Shinigami, snapping her fingers, “Take him to the barracks. We will take him to the Sou-Taichou once his meetings have concluded.”

“You're making a big mistake, Soi-Fon.” He growled, snarling as his shoulders were grabbed by two of her subordinates, “A _big_ mistake.”

“We shall see, Kurosaki. We shall see.” Was all she said as he was dragged away.

* * *

The sudden illumination of blinding light entering the room as the door swung open made Byakuya's eyes burn in their sockets, despite his attempts to blot it out by turning his head away. The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention and he forced himself to glare up at the dark haired Espada.

Ulquiorra, his... Keeper.

He had lost track of time while imprisoned in his room, bland and white as it was, with bare minimal furniture – a couch and a rug. The Kuchiki heir had spent the last however long it had been, with his wrists bound in reiatsu suppressant shackles two sizes too tight attached to a long chain that had been hammered into the wall.

It had been years since his reiatsu had been repressed, in fact the last time he could recall had been during his training with Yoruichi. They had both worn bangles to limit their power, putting them on a more even footing. At least those restraints had been on his terms, rather than the chaffing irritation he now experienced.

Groaning silently as he shifted, Byakuya felt a deep set ache running through his entire body. The food he had been provided was scarce, minimal, enough to prevent the onset of starvation. But it was good for little else, tasting like wallpaper paste with a similar appearance.

Ulquiorra was not the best at maintaining the health of those under his care it seemed, as despite the length of chain allowing him to reach the bathroom to relieve himself the Kuchiki heir was unable to wash or clean himself properly. His hair which he usually took so much pride in hung limply, was matted beneath his kenseikan, and barely concealed the spattering of colourful bruises Nnoitra had inflicted when he'd tried to fight back. His shihakusho was tattered and torn, his tekkō had been disposed off during the journey though the Garganta. He was a shadow of his former self, and they both knew it.

Forcing himself not to flinch as Ulquiorra's foot nudged against the tray of untouched food resting on the floor, Byakuya glowered up at him as the dark haired Espada spoke, “You have few requirements to fulfil while you are here, eating is one of them. If you do not eat willingly, I shall have to force it down your throat.”

“I will not eat slop.” He growled out, “If you wish for me to fulfil my _requirements_ provide me with better.”

Ulquiorra seemed to appraise him for a long moment before he gripped the nobleman's face firmly in one hand, squeezing to the point of causing physical pain as he prised his lips apart, “I am not to be trifled with, especially not by the likes of trash such as yourself.”

“It is hard not to remember you slumped on the floor in a pool of your own blood after Ichigo bested you in Karakura town.” Byakuya gasped out, releasing the smallest whine as the grip merely tightened.

The dark haired Espada stooped, his hand sliding through the porridge-like swill, scooping some up before he thrusted his fingers down the Kuchiki heir's throat. Byakuya's eyes widened only slightly, he was determined not to show fear to the monster before him, but his eyes began to water against his will as he began to gag both at the foul taste of the food and the feeling of fingers sliding too far down against his tongue.

“Your...” Ulquiorra seemed to search for a fitting word, his upper lip curling in distaste, “ _Precious_ Kurosaki caught me by surprise that day. I assure you, the next time I see him I will break him. Trash has no place in Las Noches. Trash has no place at Aizen-sama's side. I will be dead before I let that happen.”

Byakuya fell forwards, coughing and retching as he was released without warning, digging his nails into the floor beneath him as anger surged at the Arrancar's words, “If you think you can best him you're more foolish than you seem.”

The slap was hard as it connected, Byakuya's face burned white hot but cold in the same second, he felt blood trickle down his chin from the new split in his lip. He forced his head up, a malicious scowl aimed at his dark haired oppressor. He would not be intimidated. He would not surrender to the pangs of fear rising in his belly. He would not become a muted plaything for a creature with mere dregs of Shinigami power making him somewhat more than the run of the mill Hollow worms he dispatched on a daily basis.

Ulquiorra's finger crooked around the chain linking his shackles together and dragged him to his feet, the nobleman held his gaze with subdued fury, “You're brave... Or foolish to refuse to relent in the face of overwhelming odds. Is it because you believe there is a chance of escape? Of rescue?” The Espada's fingers snaked forwards, resting over the Shinigami's heart, “Perhaps you think your _precious_ Kurosaki will charge into Hueco Mundo, into Las Noches and win your freedom.”

“On the contrary, Ulquiorra Cifer,” his jaw tightened, “It is the very fact that Ichigo would never be foolish enough to risk coming here that gives me hope.”

“Hope.” Green eyes narrowed, “Hope in place of despair. Love in place of hate. Connections in place of solitude. Emotions in place of emptiness. It is what makes you weak.”

“Hope is what makes me strong.” He argued.

“You have been here for three days, and three nights with no sign of a cavalry to rescue you. You have no hope left.”

They seemed to come to a stalemate, staring at each other, barely moving besides drawing breath. Byakuya could feel weariness washing over him every second he was in the man's presence, but he would never allow it to show. He had been trained for hostage situations as a child, there had been many who wished harm upon the heir of the Kuchiki Clan. It had been just another part of growing up. And the main thing he remembered with the most clarity, was never to show weakness.

“Aizen-sama has requested your presence in the King's Suite.” The green eyed Hollow said suddenly, as if remembering the very reason for his visit to the room.

Byakuya watched as he was freed from the wall, the Espada never once releasing his grasp on the chain between his wrists, he hissed as he was dragged along after him. The stinging pain which shot through his already sore skin forced him to conceal a wince as he was guided down a labyrinth of pearl white corridors. How anyone could navigate it without getting lost was beyond him, he tried in vain to memorise the route back to his room, but failed miserably. Everything looked alike.

He wasn't sure how long they were walking for, but it felt like a ridiculously long amount of time. The Division Six Taichou had no idea how big the palace was as the Garganta he had been brought through had opened up inside a grand hall. Yet if the high ceilings and absurd maze of hallways were to be believed it seemed perfectly possible for the building to rival the size of Seireitei. He balked at the idea of how many Hollows Aizen could be storing inside these white walls.

“Whatcha got there Ulquiorra?”

Byakuya's spine tingled at the familiar voice, his gut clenching as he looked over his shoulder and met the inquisitive blue gaze he had expected.

“Nothing which concerns you, Grimmjow.” Ulquiorra's voice was strained, his face betraying a hint of annoyance.

“Holy shit! That's Byakuya Kuchiki!” The blue haired Arrancar who'd had so much audacity to hide in Soul Society, strode forwards with a prowl, “So this is who you had tucked away. I'd heard Aizen wanted someone snatched but... This is a surprise!”

“That is Aizen-sama to the likes of you, Sexta.” Green eyes narrowed, “Return to your quarters, I am on duty.”

Grimmjow's eyes were tracing the bruises on Byakuya's face, the cut on his lip, the sickly pallid look of his skin. Particular attention was paid to the flesh over the nobleman's heart, where not long ago Ulquiorra had rested his hand. As far as Byakuya was aware there was no mark there. While the Arrancar's expression gave nothing away, the nobleman couldn't help but wonder why there was such tension between the two men. It was palpable.

“Gotta say, you ain't been takin' very good care of him... Have you?” Blue eyes were like slits as he appraised the dark haired Hollow, “Doubt Aizen will be impressed.”

“Return. To. Your. Quarters.”

For a moment, Byakuya was confident that the two Espada were going to come to blows. The hostility between them was terrifying, it left his mouth dry with anxiety. But then, as if becoming bored with the entire ordeal, Grimmjow held his hands up and backed away.

“Whatever you say, Cuatro.” Without another word, Grimmjow turned on them and disappeared back the way he'd come.

The Kuchiki heir couldn't help but feel like that wasn't Grimmjow's normal behaviour. He recalled some of the man's time in Soul Society, he'd been obnoxious; violent; aggressive and rude. He couldn't imagine a man like that backing down to anyone.

“Come.” Ulquiorra gave a sharp yank on the shackles.

They walked a little further before a set of vast set of double doors came into sight, they reached from the floor to the ceiling and when they arrived before them, Ulquiorra rapped courteously against the marble-like material, “I have brought the Shinigami to you as requested, Aizen-sama. I am coming in.”

The smaller built man pushed one of the doors open, shoving the noble inside roughly. Byakuya blinked through the dim lighting of the room as he was guided deeper. It was vast and aptly named, for it seemed filled to the brim with lavish furnishings – several couches, rugs, coffee tables, lights, candles, bookshelves and so much more. Byakuya could see three doors spattered off to the right hand side, all of them open. One seemed to show a basic kitchen while another revealed a bathroom. Finally a shorter set of double doors were parted enough to see the imperial sized bed beyond.

Aizen was stood out on the veranda, just beyond a set of glass doors, staring out over the white sands of Hueco Mundo. He turned as he heard them grow closer, and offered his subordinate a smile.

“Thank you, Ulquiorra, you are dismissed. I will handle things from here.” Aizen waited for the doors to the King's Suite to close before he swept down the two small steps leading back into the room, stopping only when he came within touching distance of the Kuchiki heir.

Clenching his hand into a fist as he remembered the last time he'd seen the brunet, Byakuya lifted his head and refused to be intimidated even as every muscle in his body protested, “What do you want with me?” He was proud when his voice didn't quiver.

Reaching out, Aizen fingered a few locks of his mistreated hair, apparently thoughtful, “With you? Nothing at all.”

“Then I was correct in my thoughts, you wish to use me as bait.” His teeth met in an angry snap at the idea.

“As intelligent as ever, Kuchiki Taichou.” He almost looked amused, “Ichigo... He will try to save you, just as he did on Sôkyoku Hill, of that I have no doubts. And when he does... He will hear the song of the Sands, just like every Hollow before him.”

Byakuya's eyes narrowed, “I see. Your hopes are that once Ichigo is here in Hueco Mundo, he will succumb to the power of his Inner Hollow. The Hollow who is incapable of refusing your commands and orders. His nature will surface and he will return to your side, no matter how hard either of them fight against it.”

Chocolate eyes almost warmed for a moment before they chilled again, “I see you have learned much of the Hollow which resides within him. I'm impressed.”

“Yes... We've met.” He muttered, he held no venom towards the Hollow but the idea that his very existence could be their downfall was bittersweet, “Why now? You've had months since Sôkyoku to make your move.”

“You were not engaged months ago.” Was the simple reply, Aizen's thumb and forefinger pinching the noble's chin as he seemed to examine his injuries.

The raven haired Shinigami tensed, “How did you-”

“For the very same reason that two of my Espada were able to open a Garganta in the middle of Rukongai.” Aizen's smile turned dangerously amused.

“You have another insider.” Byakuya breathed, eyebrows knitting together furiously as he immediately tried to work out who, why and where, “You set all this up... To stop us getting married. You are pathetic, Sōsuke Aizen.”

“Pathetic is clinging to something that was never yours to begin with.” A smooth yet cold reply, the pinch of his fingers tightening slightly, “Ichigo was never yours... He never will be.”

“He isn't a possession you can lay claim to!” He snapped, eyes burning with anger, “He is a living breathing person who can make his own choices!”

“No matter how many of his choices lead him away from me and where he truly belongs, Ichigo will always find his way back.” Aizen breathed, “You understand why, do you not?”

Byakuya felt a shiver creep down his spine at the question. There were at least a dozen reasons why Aizen was entirely correct in his assessment, many of which he'd heard Ichigo talk about himself. But there were just as many reasons for the sunset haired Shinigami to resist.

“Your hold on him will not last forever.” The raven haired Shinigami breathed, “Ichigo grows stronger every single day, his potential is limitless. He can free himself from you, of that I have no doubt.” He growled out.

“We shall see. If you think your... Relationship will be enough to stop him swaying you know him even less than you think.”

“Why can't you accept that he doesn't want you?!” Byakuya barked suddenly, “From the way you talk about him it's like you're in love with him!”

Aizen's reiatsu hit him like a tsunami, crushing him, forcing him to his knees. And yet the brunet barely looked perturbed by it. Just how strong was he really? All pretence of kindness was gone now, the brunet's expression was set like ice but twice as cold.

“It seems to me that Ulquiorra has been doing a poor job of attending to your needs, having you die before Ichigo returns to me would be detrimental. My Head Scientist will tend to your injuries.” Aizen turned his back, “I suggest you get used to Las Noches, Byakuya Kuchiki. You will not be seeing Soul Society again.”

Panting and gasping as the pressure lifted enough for him to stagger to his feet, Byakuya felt sweat running down his chest, eyes wide as he stared at the brunet, his heart trembling in a momentary surge of clarity, “After everything... You've put him through and... Everything you still plan to do... You actually are in love with him... Aren't you?”

Pausing at the question, Aizen quirked an eyebrow and clasped his hands behind his back, “Love is for children's stories, it has no place in the real world. But... Like a moth to a flame I do find myself drawn in, ever closer, unable to look away. Even at the risk of getting burnt by his fire.”

“You son-of-a-bitch...” The Taichou let out a disgusted breath, “After everything... All the pain you caused! The manipulation, the control... You _fucking_ bastard! I hope you do get burnt!”

Byakuya lunged at the man, he wasn't sure why or what his plan was but his childhood rage was rearing its ugly head. He wanted to hurt Aizen, to show him at least a fragment of what he'd inflicted on Ichigo. Anything was go enough. A slap, a punch, a righteous kick in the balls.

Strong arms wrapped around him without warning, lifting him off his feet. Byakuya snarled and writhed, wriggling furiously to break free.

“I will summon you when something arises which requires your presence, until then... Do try not to cause my Espada any problems. Despite my orders, I doubt they would hesitate to kill you if you push them too far.”

Dragged from the King's Suite while still putting up a struggle, Byakuya found his energy quickly draining until all he could do was slacken in the grasp of his new handler. He glowered up at the man. He was tall and lean, with baby pink hair and glittering whiskey coloured eyes that were barely concealed behind the bony glasses he wore. There was something unsettling about the smile on his wide lips, something that made the noble want to shrink away.

“My name is Szayelapporo Granz.” The pink haired Arrancar said suddenly, breaking the murderous tension between them as he carried the Shinigami into what appeared to be a laboratory of some kind, “But you may call me Szayel. You will have to forgive my manners, I do not make a habit of manhandling everyone I newly meet.”

His primary instincts were to make a verbal swipe at the man, but Byakuya couldn't help but remember his manners and his training, instead replying in a tight voice, “Division Six Taichou, Byakuya Kuchiki.”

“Oh I know who you are.” There was an amused edge to the Arrancar's tone as he set the noble down on one of the many beds neatly tucked against one of the far walls, “My goodness... It seems to me that Ulquiorra has been frightful in his treatment towards you. Aizen-sama has instructed me to see to healing your wounds and seeing to your immediate welfare.”

Byakuya stayed quiet, watching as the man snapped on a pair of latex gloves and pulled a silver tray towards the bedside, equipped with what looked like antiseptic fluid and cotton balls. He couldn't help but feel his stomach churn at the idea of being touched by the Hollow.

“Now, I'd like to assure you that I am in no way a fiend like our dearly dismal Cuatro Espada, and so I would like to ask if you are quite prepared for me to deal with these nasty looking cuts and bruises.” The pink haired man smiled widely at him again, fingers interlocked on the side of the bed.

Despite every instinct screaming no, the nobleman nodded once, “I... Appreciate your willingness to treat me, Szayel-san.”

“Willingness?” A subtle blink and a soft chuckle, “I fear willingness has very little to do with it. No one refuses an order from Aizen-sama if they desire to have their head remain attached to their shoulders, as you will soon learn for yourself, I have no doubt.”

“I did get that impression.” He muttered, wincing as he felt cotton soft material brushing over his bruises with a careful hand he would never have expected a Hollow to possess.

“But you knew him before all this, it must be strange for you...” Szayel murmured under his breath, “Grimmjow, another frightful savage among our numbers sadly, told us that you were among the only Shinigami to realise Aizen-sama was deceiving Soul Society. I must confess, I find such perception awfully scary. How ever did you keep a straight face around him?”

Closing his eyes as he let the man work, Byakuya sighed softly, “As heir to a noble Clan I went through in depth training throughout my childhood, I can only assume it was due to that very training I realised something was amiss. There comes a time when kind smiles seem a little too kind, and generous offers seem just a little too generous.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” If the paused movement of the cotton ball was to be believed, perhaps Szayel did understand.

When his facial injuries had been tended to, Szayel gave him a thorough check over. Apparently, he had a bruised rib and needed some decent food in his system to help him heal faster. Byakuya had already concluded by the time the physical examination was over, that Szayelapporo Granz was a narcissist, a perfectionist, vain and borderline clinically insane. And yet he was adept at his work and had better manners than most of the other Arrancar he had ever encountered.

A small huff had Byakuya opening his eyes, he watched as the pink haired man peeled his gloves off and disposed of them moodily, “Is everything alright?” He inquired.

“I have treated what I can, but I refuse to sit here a moment longer while you look and smell like the contents of a sewer. Just what has Ulquiorra been doing to you anyway? It is simply disgraceful to have allowed a _guest_ to get into such poor state.”

“I apologise,” the nobleman said amicably, “As you have noted, I have been fed and watered, to a degree, but little else.”

Whiskey coloured eyes fixed on his steel grey ones for a moment before the Hollow rested a hand on his arm, “Oh it's not your fault, I'm sure. Ulquiorra is little more than an animal towards those he looks down upon. Which is everyone, by the way. I have a bathroom adjacent to my office, I shall allow you to use it so you can clean yourself up. I am certain I can find some clothes which would fit you appropriately.”

Byakuya didn't trust the man's smile at all, nor the overly friendly physical contact, but at present he had little option other than to comply, “Thank you, that would be most satisfactory.”

His shackles were unclipped from one and other to give him some freedom, and he was guided into the bathroom. The room was huge, with a shower large enough to fit at least three people inside; given the rather lecherous attitude of the scientist, Byakuya was left pondering if the space was that large for that exact reason.

Hiding a shudder, the nobleman slowly removed the tattered remnants of his uniform, his muscles burned in protest and his eyes felt itchy from tiredness, but he refused to allow himself to crumble in the dragon's den. The only comfort came from seeing that his family scarf and kenseikan were intact and undamaged.

Showering helped a little, at the very least he felt more alive once the grime and sweat was washed from his skin. He felt more like himself once his hair was clean and the shame of his capture was washed away down the plug.

He still felt weak, discontent running through him as he gave some time to properly inspecting the reiatsu suppressant shackles, they were well made, resembling sekkiseki stone in texture and colour, though he was certain its properties differed. He came to the conclusion the shackles could only be removed by an outside force, his own strength would do little, aside from irritating his already sore skin.

Stepping out of the shower, he gave a small thankful prayer that his body was responding to commands a little more than it had done before. He let out a breath, drying himself with a fluffy pink towel that had hung near the door, Byakuya's cheeks warmed slightly as his gaze fell upon the pile of folded clothes on the counter and he realised that the scientist had entered the bathroom while he had been washing.

A quick look at the glass shower partition confirmed that very little of his modesty was intact and he clenched his teeth, the knowledge that someone other than his fiancé had been given the chance to roam his body with their eyes made his skin crawl. It was all he could do to prevent himself getting back in the shower to cleanse away his embarrassment and anger.

The clothing he had been given was abundantly white, and he began to wonder if Aizen viewed his Espada as some kind of angelic force, to be clad in such pure colours. It was fitting, in a twisted sense, a man with a God complex ruling over an army of powerful devils all dressed in billowing white robes as if descending from the heavens. Yes, how very Aizen.

Heaving a sigh, he pulled on the offending articles, pleased at the very least that it wasn't so different from his usual attire. White hakama and shihakusho bound around the waist by a black sash. He found himself growling as he was forced to put his kenseikan back into his hair. It was a fight he wasn't sure he was going to win, one handed it was almost impossible to accomplish, but he would never allow himself to ask the insane scientist to assist him with it, his pride would surely have shrivelled up and died for even considering it.

Jaw set firmly, the noble glowered at his reflection, his face was a bit gaunt and his cheekbones were protruding just a little too much for comfort, he was paler than normal but with an unhealthy shadow to it that distracted from a lot of his usual attraction. At the very least, the fire had returned to his eyes.

“Ichigo... Don't you _dare_ come after me.” He breathed, “Don't you _dare_.”


	38. The Weight Of Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped behind bars in Division Two, the weight of the world shifts uneasily on Ichigo's shoulders as he battles the malice he thought he'd left behind. But even when things seem at their worst, he soon learns that he has more allies than he realised.

Lips in a tight line, arms crossed angrily over his chest, eyes staring blindly at the floor, Ichigo sat silently amidst the chaos. His cell was in ruins. Chairs and tables had been thrown against the bars and walls, spraying splinters of dark wood in every direction, bowls of food and glasses of drink had been smashed to smithereens, the bed lay in pieces beneath a pock-marked wall. The artwork of his fists.

Ichigo had sunk down the wall to the floor once the storm had passed, and had not moved since. He seemed calm but with his reiatsu contained there was no way to know for certain, save for one thing. The blazing black and gold in his eyes, Shiro's influence lingering over his head within touching distance. Their combined rage at being arrested, at being refused the chance to rescue Byakuya, at being cast in a cell like a common criminal had resulted in the unpleasant mingling of their cognitive state.

Four days. It had been four painfully slow, exaggerated days and nights since Byakuya had been snatched away by Ulquiorra and Nnoitra. And nothing had been done about it.

“ _ **How much longer are we gonna sit here and wait!”**_ Shiro yelled inside his mind, the albino's energy no where near as exhausted as his own, **_“We should be in Hueco Mundo now! We should be rescuing Byakuya and fuckin' destroyin' that green eyed fucker!”_**

“I know.” He muttered, nails absent-mindedly pulling at his bottom lip like a restless habit, “I should have made sure he was dead in Karakura town. I should have fought harder in Rukongai... It was pathetic.”

“ _ **Sure fuckin' was!”**_ The albino growled, fists slamming against an unseen surface, **_“We were both pathetic... I should have just... Taken over no questions asked... Would have fuckin' saved him...”_**

“And seen to the deaths of everyone else around us.”

“ _ **FUCK everyone else!”**_ A skyscraper was reduced to rubble.

He gave a grunt of affirmation, he couldn't help but agree at least a little in his current state. He wanted to pin Soi-Fon down and strangle her, slowly, painfully until the woman's eyes bulged and her lips turned blue. He wanted to crush every bone in Yamamoto's body, one by one until he begged for mercy, only to snap his neck. He wanted to... He wanted...

Ichigo covered his face with his hands and sucked in a shaky breath. Byakuya would be ashamed if he ever found out he was thinking such things. Ichigo was ashamed to be thinking such things. He'd believed his malice and homicidal urges had died with the return of his emotions. It brought a sickening lurch to his gut to realise otherwise.

“They could be doing anything to him...” He whispered, gritting his teeth until they hurt, “Between Aizen, Gin... Tōsen... Grimmjow, Ulquiorra and that fucking bastard, Nnoitra... They could be doing _anything_. And that's just the ones we know about!”

“ _ **We gotta find a way outta here... We can't leave him with them!”**_

“But how? I can't do anything with these things on me!” He yanked at the shackles around his wrists and slammed his head back against the wall in temper.

Ichigo's gaze was drawn by the sound of conflict outside the door to his cell, he frowned and leaned forwards, trying to spot anything amiss. He could hear shouting, protests, the echo of several strikes against soft flesh. Someone was coming.

The door burst open suddenly to reveal none other than Ukitake and Kyōraku standing side by side. The white haired Shinigami had a cut on his cheek and the pink kimono clad Taichou was sporting a black eye. But all in all they looked rather pleased with themselves.

“U-Ukitake Taichou... Kyōraku Taichou... What are you doing here?!” He exclaimed, slowly getting to his feet.

“We're here to break you out, Ichigo-san!” Ukitake swept forwards, flourishing the keys to his cage, “I fear all is not right in the world, Yamamoto Sou-Taichou is not himself. In the past he would never have left a colleague to suffer at the hands of an enemy while there was still hope that they could be saved. He would never abandon his subordinates to torment and death. Something is gravely amiss and I fear... If you remain in Soul Society your life will be on the line.”

“What are you saying?” Ichigo swallowed, watching as Kyōraku retrieved Zangetsu from its own entrapment.

“We aren't sure of anything right now. There is nothing we can safely say.” The normally laid back Division Eight Taichou was tense, “All you need consider is one fact: how did two Espada open a Garganta within Rukongai without anyone sensing it, without any resistance?”

As the door to his cell swung open, Ukitake hastily released him from his shackles, the strawberry sucked in a sharp gasp as he felt the release of his reiatsu, “If you're hinting at what I think you are then... Things are far worse than that. Soi-Fon arrested me on charges of conspiring with Aizen, they had evidence. _Someone_ told her and Yamamoto everything they needed to know.”

“This all points to an uncomfortable truth.” Kyōraku let out a sigh, “There must be another traitor still lingering in Soul Society. Kurosaki-san, for everyone's sake... Do you know who they are?”

The firm hand on his shoulder stopped Ichigo giving a flippant answer, he gulped and looked up into the man's eyes, “Kyōraku Taichou... I give you my word, I had no idea there was another traitor in Seireitei.”

There was a stagnant, ill tasting pause before the man nodded, his expression softening, “I believe you. Now come, we must get you to a Senkaimon! The Kuchiki Estate's private one should still be functional.”

As he followed them from the building, Ichigo was stunned to see a magnitude of unconscious Stealth Force operatives across the grassy landscape, “Are you going to get in trouble for this?”

“Most definitely.” Came the unanimous reply.

“Thank you.” He whispered, his eyes slowly bleeding back to their normal shades of chestnut as Shiro's presence faded in the wake of hope.

The seasons were changing, that much was obvious as he felt the chill of the breeze striking against his skin as they rushed across Seireitei in blurs of Shunpo. Autumn was fading away, before long winter would be upon them.

They arrived at the Kuchiki Estate, blissfully undisturbed, and rushed towards the family's Senkaimon. It was active!

Ichigo felt a thrill pulsing through his body at the idea of making his escape, of reaching Karakura town and seeking Urahara's help. He could reach Hueco Mundo. He could save Byakuya. Fuck what Soul Society thought of him.

“ _ **I like the new Aibou, this attitude suits ya.”**_ Shiro was smirking.

“ _We'll see how well it goes once we're there. What about you? Gonna manage being in Aizen's territory?”_ His protective shield of a scowl was in place as he watched the two Taichou setting up the portal for him, making sure everything was functioning normally.

“ _ **Won't do ya the dishonour of lyin'. I dunno. But I'm gonna do my best.”**_ He could almost see the Hollow squirming with the discomfort of admitting to it.

“ _That's all I ask, Shiro. There's gonna be a lot of powerful people there. Plenty for us to share!”_

Watching as Ukitake and Kyōraku stepped aside and gave him a single nod to let him know everything was ready, Ichigo glanced back over the Kuchiki Estate. It felt like a second home to him, despite having only slept there a handful of times. He made a silent promise to himself that when he returned with Byakuya, they were going to spent a _lot_ more time there. He prepared to jump through the Senkaimon with his fists clenched at his sides.

“Ichigo!”

He spun on the spot with wide eyes, momentarily panicked at his discovery before a flash of red hair caught his gaze and he swore, “Renji! You motherfucker, what are you doing here?!”

“The same thing as you, by the looks of it.” The redhead smirked as he walked over, Zanpakutō casually slung over his shoulder, “We're gonna get demoted for this regardless, so let's get demoted together.”

“You are rather optimistic on our chances of survival, Renji.” Rukia announced as she appeared on Ichigo's other side, eyebrows raised, “We are as likely to get killed as we are to make it back in one piece.”

“I'd argue that you're a pessimist, but Byakuya's your brother so I guess it comes with the Kuchiki territory to assume the worst.” The Fukutaichou narrowed his eyes, “What are you even doing here?”

Rukia folded her arms smugly and offered a smile, “Ukitake Taichou approached me earlier today and informed me of his plans to break Ichigo out of Division Two. We _must_ rescue Nii-sama. He cannot be left in Aizen's hands. What about you?”

“Kyōraku Taichou came to me.” The redhead admitted, glancing at the two men who were smirking slightly at their successful mission.

Ichigo stared at them and swallowed, “We're going to be in so much trouble for this, the two of you have strong positions here... You shouldn't jeopardise them.”

“Who cares about our positions?! Nii-sama's life is at risk and the Sou-Taichou doesn't seem to care enough to take action! It's up to us!” Rukia grabbed one of his hands in a painful grip, “Or do you really think you can take on all of Hueco Mundo alone?”

He looked down at her, mouth opening and closing before he released a small huff, “No... No I don't think that.”

“You're not alone Ichigo.” She said firmly.

He nodded once in agreement and gratitude before rolling his shoulders, the three of them moving closer together so that they could enter the portal at the same time. He flinched as he felt someone else approaching and glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening in surprise at who he saw.

“Well, isn't this an interesting party of vagabonds and jail breakers?” Norio's arms were folded and he was looking increasingly smug, “I do believe you were ordered not to leave Soul Society, Kurosaki.”

Tensing, he raised a hand towards Zangetsu's hilt, staring the man down, “Are you here to make things difficult?”

“On the contrary,” the Head Elder lifted his hands and opened them, allowing three Hell Butterflies to flutter free, “I'm here to offer my support.”

Ichigo watched as the Butterflies fluttered around their heads, “You're helping us?” He frowned, “But you hate Byakuya. You hate me.”

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, Norio rested his hands on his hips, “Yes. I hate you both. But it will be troublesome to find a new heir if the current Head passes away.”

Rukia gasped, “Because the next blood relative he has... Is you.”

“Correct.” The man sneered at her slightly before returning his attention to Ichigo, “Becoming the Head of the Kuchiki Clan would be a dream come true... But sadly I am infertile. I will never be able to present the family with the heir it requires. My leadership would mean our downfall. As much as I despise the pair of you... You present the best future for our Clan. For that reason, you must rescue Byakuya.”

Lowering his hand at last, Ichigo glared at Norio. He wasn't convinced by his motivations at all, but as he turned back towards the Senkaimon he let out a short breath, “Then it's simple. I just have to win.”

Without another word, the three Shinigami leapt into the swirling light of the portal, running through the obnoxiously bright light as they were guided by the Butterflies fluttering just ahead of them. They didn't speak, they were too focused on their task. The only sound to break the silence was their gentle puffs of breath as the light began to dim, the sight of shōji doors opening ahead of them bringing relief.

They burst out of the Senkaimon into the deserted road beyond, street lights flickering around them in response to the sudden presence of such dense reiatsu. Ichigo glanced around and released a small sigh as he saw Urahara already waiting for them just across from where they'd come out.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” The strawberry asked as he walked over.

“Good evening, Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki-san, Abarai-san. I wonder what could bring you here in the dead of night, when almost all Senkaimon in and out of Seireitei have been closed.” The man was grinning nonchalantly, hat tilted low, “Could it be... You suspect me of having a way to get to Hueco Mundo?”

Stepping a little closer, Ichigo set his expression firmly to try and show his determination, “And do you? Do you have a way?”

“For you, Kurosaki-san... Always. Follow me.” The blond turned and swiftly guided them inside the store.

“I assume you're up to date with everything?” Rukia asked.

“Regrettably,” a nod, “Yoruichi-san was beyond furious to learn Yamamoto was willing to sit back and do nothing. But we had a hunch you would arrive before long.”

“I would have been here sooner,” Ichigo growled as he descended into the basement below the shop, “But I was arrested for conspiring with Aizen.”

“Truly? Yoruichi-san was sure she had wiped every last drop of evidence away...” Urahara frowned before letting out a sigh, “Troubling times await us I fear.”

Ichigo saw Urahara's modified Senkaimon off to the side, its light was dull to show it was currently unusable. He folded his arms and leaned against one of the large boulders.

“So, allow me to get this straight,” the blond former Taichou cleared his throat, “You plan to infiltrate Hueco Mundo, seek out Byakuya-san who was stolen so harshly from you, and return him safely to Soul Society where he belongs. All without getting yourselves killed, correct?”

“Pretty much.” The strawberry nodded once.

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join, Kurosaki?” A familiar voice asked from up ahead.

Ichigo squinted, pushing away from the rock as he walked forwards, “Ishida? What are you doing here?”

“Urahara-san has already filled us in on the details.” The Quincy nudged his glasses up his nose.

“Us?” The strawberry repeated, faltering as he watched Chad and Orihime approaching too, “No. Absolutely not. You've got kids to think of!”

“Forgive my rudeness, Kurosaki-kun,” Orihime smiled, clasping her hands together, “But you have no jurisdiction to tell us what we can and cannot do.”

“Mm, the mere suggestion that a _Shinigami_ would try to tell me what to do makes my blood boil.” Ishida snorted, glaring at him, “We are not here because you asked us. We are here because we want to be. Your best chance of success lies in having strong allies.”

Wanting to argue, Ichigo allowed his shoulders to slump, knowing there was no way he would convince them not to join the mission, “Fine. Thank you for your help.”

“Now that everyone is together,” Urahara clapped his hands sharply to draw their attention, “Yoruichi-san will begin preparations to open a Garganta for you to travel through, I require a moment of your time Kurosaki-san, come this way.”

Hesitating for a moment, he watched as his Human friends and his Shinigami friends introduced themselves to each other, Orihime seemed instantly taken by Rukia's elegance and warmth, while Chad seemed pleased with Renji's brashness. Ishida looked impassive about it all, but of course he did.

“What's wrong?” He asked the blond man as they came to a stop out of ear shot of his friends.

“Kurosaki-san...” Urahara hesitated, smile wiped from his face in an exchange with seriousness, “I want you to be very careful while you are in Hueco Mundo.”

“Huh? What do you think I'm going to do? Run up to the nearest Hollow and ask to be taken to Aizen?” He rolled his eyes.

“That is not what I mean, and you know it.” The blond frowned faintly, seeming to consider his words carefully, “Your coexistence with Shiro-san is not perfect, you are not synchronised. You still remain two very different sides of the same Soul. From the moment you set foot in Hueco Mundo he will start to get stronger.”

The strawberry swallowed and licked his lips, “You mean... I'm in danger of him taking over just because we're in Hueco Mundo?”

“I fear that is the case, I can think of no other reason for Aizen to lure you there.” Urahara rested a hand on his shoulder, “Finish your mission as quickly as you can. Where possible, avoid extended fights with the Arrancar and Espada. Their reiatsu will call to Shiro, drawing him to the surface. And whatever you do, do not allow Aizen to show you his Shikai. The moment that happens... It's over.”

“I-I understand... Thanks Urahara-san.” Ichigo looked down as he considered the man's warning, anxiety weighing heavily in the pity of his belly, _“You hear that?”_

“ _ **Yeah.”**_

“ _We need to work together if we're gonna save Byakuya. Talk to me when things get too much, I'll try and help.”_ He bit his lip and looked around slowly.

Urahara leapt up onto one of the two wooden beams now protruding from the two tallest rock formations in the underground training area, thanking his friend for her help as she jumped down out of the way. He sucked in a breath and dropped onto one knee, firmly pressing the base of his walking aid onto the wood.

“My right hand is the stone that bridges worlds. My left hand is the blade that binds reality. The black haired shepherd is hung from a chair. Stratus clouds come, and I strike down the Ibis!” Billowing blue light erupted from under his cane and his hand, rippling across the stretch between the two wooden platforms, connecting them with a loud creaking sound that seemed to echo for far longer than necessary.

Ichigo steadied himself, heart pounding in his chest as he watched the elastic azure rip apart, revealing the darkness beyond, it looked similar to the Garganta he'd seen in the past, but was less Hollowfied.

“Let's go.” He barked as he shot forwards, face set like stone.


	39. The Siren Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Garganta spits out the unlikely blend of rescuers, Ichigo feels the immediate strain of Hueco Mundo's drawing power calling to Shiro. Around the same time, Byakuya finds some unlikely allies inside Las Noches.

Ichigo growled as Rukia was forced to take the lead through the Garganta, the reishi pathways instantly solidifying and becoming more stable beneath her controlled reiatsu. His own had been rugged, crumbly and almost deadly, Chad had fallen twice, surviving only thanks to Ishida's quick thinking and reflexes.

Relief from the black void came quickly as the tearing mouth-like rip soon opened in front of them, if he squinted Ichigo was sure he could already make out the shifting waves of crisp white sand and emptiness. His stomach was tying itself in angry, anxious knots as they grew closer and closer. He sucked in a breath, freezing on the very lip of the Garganta as he watched Rukia, Renji, Orihime, Ishida and Chad break free into the world beyond.

He leapt after them, bringing up the rear of the group. Ichigo heard the Garganta snap shut behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to look. He couldn't do very much at all in fact. His entire body had seized up, muscles protesting, bones aching, head spinning. He hit the sand with a soft thump, fingers digging into the soft ground, eyes wide.

There was an instant restlessness deep inside his chest, a squirming sensation not dissimilar to nervous fluttering. But it left him gasping for breath as he watched black inky swirls trickling into his vision without permission.

“ _Your coexistence with Shiro-san is not perfect, you are not synchronised... From the moment you set foot in Hueco Mundo he will start to get stronger...”_

Urahara's words jolted through him, his teeth clenching tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the frigid fingers trailing up his spine. His ears were ringing, nostrils burning, throat tightening. Every sense was on fire.

“Ichigo?” Rukia's voice was concerned as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

He flinched at the contact, sucking in a deep breath as he forced himself to sit back on his haunches, slowly opening his eyes to meet her violet ones, “I-I'm alright.” He said quietly, glad that the blackness had withdrawn for the time being.

“So this... Is Hueco Mundo...” Renji had his hands on his hips, looking around the expansive wasteland.

Ichigo lurched to his feet and licked his lips, ignoring the looks of worry he was receiving from Rukia, Orihime and Ishida as he walked to his redheaded friend's side, “Yeah... And somewhere in this Hell-hole is Aizen's palace, and Byakuya's prison.”

“What do we know about his hideout?” Their Quincy companion asked.

“Las Noches...” Ichigo said softly, “I remember Aizen talking about it a few times... It's a palace, one huge palace. He... Planned to create a home for his subordinates, where they could be safe, where they could grow strong.”

“Something... Like that?” Orihime lifted a hand and pointed with her index finger.

Ichigo followed her gesture until his eyes came to rest on the humongous white building in the distance, he felt his breath hitch at the sight of it, “Yes... That's it. That's... Las Noches...”

“You're sure?” Renji asked gruffly.

“Definitely. Don't ask me how I know... I just do.” The strawberry haired Shinigami winced, rolling his shoulders as a tingle rippled across his skin, “We should move, the sooner we get there the better.”

“True.” Ishida slipped an arm around his wife's waist, “I can carry Orihime while using Hirenkyaku, but I won't be able to take Sado as well.”

“I can carry him.” The redheaded Fukutaichou nodded to the larger man, gesturing for him to come closer.

Ichigo murmured his thanks and as a unit they began a quick approach in the direction of the white palace. It was unbelievable how big it was, no matter how long they seemed to travel for the place never seemed to get any bigger.

What didn't help their progress, was when they were suddenly attacked. There was no warning before several low level Hollows seemed to spring from beneath their very feet, all claws and teeth and tails trying to snatch at the fresh source of food with greedy hands, greedy talons. Rukia was quick off the mark, Zanpakutō drawn and already cleaving flesh from bone. Ichigo and Renji were next, taking the time to clear the way as quickly as possible.

Their journey fell into an uneasy pattern of moving across the sand, being attacked by Hollows, defeating them and moving again. It was like a never-ending loop. Ichigo could feel himself getting slower, his movements sluggish, his legs heavy and it was nothing to do with the struggle to make progress.

He could _hear_ it. High pitched, feminine, ethereal. A voice. A voice, singing to him like a lullaby reaching into his head, into his Soul. For every Hollow he cleaved in two the voice grew louder. It made him feel like he was wading through waist high water, drowning in mist and fog that just seemed to get more and more dense, thicker and heavier until he could barely see his own hands in front of his face. His chest was so tight he could barely suck in a breath, the stabbing pain reaching like knives around his organs.

The deep burn of fangs burying into his forearm roused him with a hiss of pain, his face contorting as he lurched, shaking the limb from side to side as he tried to fling the bat looking Hollow off him. Ichigo released a gasp of relief as Ishida speared the creature with an arrow, and the strawberry stumbled as he watched it's body disintegrate at his feet.

Blood was running down his fingers, dripping crimson on the snowy sand, his face felt hot as sweat glistened on his skin, dampening his hair. He fell, groaning when he felt strong arms stop him hitting the floor. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he could smell Renji's unique scent with ease.

“Ichigo? Ichigo can you hear me?” The redhead's voice was loud and worried, “What's wrong with him?!”

“Let me see to his wound!” Orihime's cool fingers wrapped around his wrist and pushed his sleeve back, but he could feel the hesitation in her movements, “I... It's gone... I don't understand...”

“It's Shiro.” He croaked, gulping back saliva as it pooled around the edges of his mouth, forcing his eyes open despite the inky blackness swirling in the corners of his vision.

“Your Hollow?” Rukia crouched down in front of him, her eyes widening immediately when she saw his, “This is why Urahara-san wanted to talk to you. Hueco Mundo... It's the Hollow world, it's... It's calling to him, isn't it?”

Ichigo nodded reluctantly, finding his feet as he carefully pulled away from his best friend's supportive touch, he ran a hand down his face and flinched as that inane singing seemed to drown everything else out for a moment, “He's just... Acclimatising... It'll settle down.”

“Liar.” The woman scolded, although her expression softened, “Does it hurt?”

The strawberry stared at her for a moment, “With every breath.”

“Why didn't you say something?” Renji growled, “You need to start relying on us!”

“You can't help with this...” He said quietly, “Shiro... As long as we're here he's going to get stronger, he's not trying to force his way out he's being pulled. It's painful for him too.”

The Fukutaichou glanced at him, frown slowly disappearing, “We might not be able to stop him coming out, but we can try and help you stay level headed, Ichigo. You're not alone.”

“Save your strength, let us do the fighting for now.” Rukia patted his arm comfortingly.

Ichigo wanted to argue, he didn't want to sit back and let them risk themselves. But he knew saying as much would only incur their anger. He muttered a solemn 'thank you' before they began moving towards Las Noches again.

They were attacked several more times, by low level Hollows and Adjuchas. True to their word, his friends worked together to make sure he didn't have to join the fight, but Ichigo felt overflowing guilt all the same whenever he saw one of them take a hit. Even if Orihime was able to heal it almost as soon as the fight was over, he hated seeing them get hurt because of him.

Through the seductive pitch of music he felt flowing through him, Ichigo could hear Shiro. He was faint, muttering apologies. He could tell that the albino was desperately trying to remain in control, if he squinted hard enough he was sure he could see Zangetsu holding him back, or maybe comforting him. He felt bad for them both. And worse for himself.

It could have been hours, or it could have been days when they finally reached the outer wall of the palace and yet they were still a good distance away from what looked like an entrance. They'd paused to rest only a handful of times, not daring to sleep in case they were discovered.

And now, still a distance from the wall but definitely close enough that they knew they would soon be able to break in, Ichigo glanced left and right for an entrance. A hidden door, an open door, a window. Anything.

A sharp, abrupt tingle made the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand on end. The strawberry glanced to his left, feeling movement.

“Get back.” He said suddenly.

His friends barely had the chance to react before the sand around them erupted and shifted, moving and growing to take shape. A towering form rising above them. Chestnut eyes rose with it, watching as a chest, head and arms became noticeable features, his gaze lingered on the huge Hollow hole in the middle of the chest as well as the bone-like bracelets around the wrists.

“What the fuck is that?” Renji breathed.

“A guard.” Ishida murmured, bow already pointing at the massive form.

“ _ **Runuganga. He works for Aizen, protects against intruders.”**_ Shiro's voice suddenly seemed loud inside Ichigo's head, blotting out the siren call of the sands for at least a brief moment.

“ _How do you know that?”_

“ _ **I know shit. This ain't an adversary any of ya can beat, rumour is he can manipulate sand itself, and he's got multiple bodies. Destroy one and he just comes back with another.”**_

“ _Then how do we get past him?”_ He scowled.

Ichigo's body tensed, clamping his teeth shut as the urge to retch washed over him, the black film which had obediently been lingering at the edges of his vision suddenly shot in front of his eyes, the world spinning for the briefest of moments as he felt a subtle shift inside his Inner World. He knew Shiro had taken control, at least in part, not enough to trigger his usual transformation but enough that his eyes now looked like his Hollow form's.

“Runuganga, Guardian of the White Sands, Protector of Las Noches!” Ichigo's body was walking him forwards, squeezing between his friends until he was stood in front of them, his voice wasn't entirely normal, it had Shiro's silvery tones but not so strongly that it blotted out his personality.

“Ichigo, what are you doing?” Rukia hissed.

“I was just informed, only moments ago by Las Noches, that we had intruders. I would never have thought that those intruders would be associated to you... Kurosaki-sama. Unforgivable... I ought to turn you all into desert sand.” The Hollow's voice was loud, gruff and made Ichigo think of an old man.

_'Wait... He called me Kurosaki-sama... He knows me? How...'_ Ichigo realised with a shudder.

“If they're with me... They ain't intruders, are they Runuganga?” He folded his arms, or rather, Shiro folded his arms for him, “Are ya gonna let us past, or are ya gonna make things difficult?”

The large Hollow lifted one of his enormous fists, the fingers clenched tightly, “How impudent... I should swallow you all at once and crush you into the sand...”

Feeling a sudden surge in his reiatsu, Ichigo watched as tendrils of black and red seeped out from beneath his feet and began spiralling up around him like angry serpents, whipping and snapping outwards without warning, “Don't make me ask ya again. Are ya gonna let us past... Or are ya gonna make things difficult? Ru-nu-gan-ga?”

He watched as the vast creature before them leaned back slightly, teeth gnashing uncertainly as his eyes narrowed only a fraction. Ichigo could almost smell the fear in the air. How did Shiro have this much effect without even being fully in control?

“P-Pass, Kurosaki-sama. I shall face my punishment from Aizen-sama directly, for disobeying his orders.”

The Guardian of the White Sands recoiled as Ichigo took a teasing step towards him, his body sinking back beneath the dusty ground without warning. Almost immediately, the strawberry sucked in a gasp for breath, feeling Shiro relinquish his stranglehold.

“What the fuck was that?!” Renji demanded, shaking him by the shoulders.

“I-I don't know.” He gulped, wiping his face as he blinked away the remaining black residue, “Shiro just... Did it.”

“Just _'did it'_?! Are you _mad_?!” The redhead barked, “He could have gone berserk!”

“Never mind that,” Ishida nudged his glasses up his nose, “How did that Hollow know your name? Why did he refer to you so highly? Kurosaki?”

“I don't know.” He breathed, “Maybe he was told to expect me?”

“He was afraid of you.” Rukia said quietly.

“No, he wasn't.” Ichigo muttered, looking away unhappily, “He was afraid of Shiro.”

“Is there anyway that... Perhaps your Hollow hasn't been telling you everything? Maybe he knows more than he's letting on.” She looked sympathetic, but there was quiet accusation in her eyes as well.

Ichigo felt his fingers twitch, the siren call from the sands sneaking back up on him the longer they stood around talking, “I don't know.” He said bluntly and pointed at Las Noches, “But whatever is going on doesn't change the fact that we need to get in there. And I, for one, am done waiting.”

Fingers clenched around the hilt of Zangetsu, he felt the bandages loosen on command as he stalked forwards.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Ishida rushed after him, “What are you doing? Kurosaki!”

“Did none of you hear what Runuganga said?!” He barked, “He was told by Las Noches that there were intruders. They know we're here. There's no use tip toeing around anymore.”

“Ichigo?” Renji was on his other side, “What do you mean?”

“I am not taking the long way around to try and find an entrance for us to politely knock on!” He growled, lifting Zangetsu over his head, “The longer I stay out here the more danger we're in from Shiro being pulled to the surface properly. I won't let that happen.”

“Ichigo don't be an-”

“GETSUGA TENSHOU!”

* * *

Byakuya sucked in a small breath as he flicked through the science notes Szayel had given him, something to 'take his mind off things' apparently. And while the pink haired Espada truly had a mind to rival Kurotsuchi's, he couldn't care less about his less than ethical experiments or their results.

Since first arriving in the man's laboratory he had healed well, he had been fed far better and allowed to sleep on the comfort of a bed. Apparently, a convincing argument had been made to have him remain in the laboratory in order to prevent Ulquiorra neglecting him again, and for some reason Aizen had agreed to it.

While the nobleman had to admit, he had flourished under Szayel's care, he was far from content with the arrangement. He knew he was under constant surveillance from the scientist, and he also knew it wasn't strictly professional. There had been touches, lingering and just a little too friendly, ill concealed attempts at flattery and flirtation, and the increasing number of tiny nicks on his arms and chest which he had no memory of causing.

Given the Octavo Espada's occupation, and his clear lack of sanity, Byakuya had quickly come to acknowledge that he had become a lab rat while he slept.

The only positive thing to come from his current place of residence, aside from feeling a lot stronger than he had done since his capture, was that he was in a prime location to see the comings and goings of many of the other Hollows living within Las Noches. While apparently not welcome in the laboratory by its owner, the pink haired man could do little to dissuade the occasional sweep of visitors he received.

The guests varied from Números, Arrancar who were given a two digit number relating to the order of their rebirth; Fracción, Arrancar who served as subordinates to the Espada and were hand picked by them; and the Espada themselves.

Some of the Arrancar showed an interest in Byakuya's presence, others showed sympathy towards him, others seemed annoyed at having another Shinigami in their home, and some were utterly indifferent towards him.

It was of no interest to him what anyone thought, his own personal curiosity started with their hierarchy, differing personalities and appearances, but ended when he came to realise just how many Arrancar were present. Every day seemed to show a new face he couldn't recognise. It was worrying. He feared for Soul Society's chances of success and survival if it truly did come to war.

At the very least he had discovered a great deal about the Espada themselves. Ranking from one to ten in number of the strongest to the weakest. He was somewhat glad to know Szayel was on the lower end of the scale, not that he was foolish enough to think that meant the pink haired Hollow would be an easy kill for anyone.

Aside from Szayel, who had proven to be one of the only friendly faces around – Byakuya used the term loosely – he found himself grateful for the more recent visits of two of the other Espada. Two of the most sane and communicative Hollows he had ever met.

Tier Harribel had paid a visit to Szayel only hours after the nobleman had taken refuge in the laboratory, apparently to check up on some results concerning her Fracción who had been injured in a scrap with Grimmjow's subordinates. When confirmation had been given that they were all fine, she had turned to leave only to meet Byakuya's interested gaze and strike up the shortest conversation of his life.

She had introduced herself as the Tres Espada, calmly apologising for the treatment he had received from Ulquiorra before stating that she was pleased to see he was on the mend, and then she left. He found her taciturn nature and level-headedness a breath of fresh air after Ulquiorra's stoicism and Szayel's madness.

She had returned hours later with a pair of fingerless tekkō for him, after discovering his own had been lost. The Tres Espada had then taken it upon herself to right the crooked alignment of his kenseikan after he told her he was unable to use his left arm. Byakuya didn't trust her, not entirely at least, but she was far removed from the mildly horrific set of circumstances he currently found himself to be in, and he felt at least a little safe in her presence.

Harribel was beautiful. Both refined and strong, something he could relate to with ease. Her olive skin and aqua eyes reminded him on the Kuchiki Estate, the koi ponds in particular. While her messy braided blond hair somehow reminded him of Ichigo's rebellious locks. She never showed the lower half of her face, and he assumed that was the location of the remnants of her Hollow mask.

The other Espada who had struck up conversation with him was something of an enigma. Unbelievably laid back, almost borderline lazy with how tired he seemed no matter the time of day. Wavy brown hair and blue-grey eyes barely distracted from the reluctant good looks of the man.

He had introduced himself as Coyote Starrk, and Byakuya had been taken aback to learn he was the Primera Espada, the strongest of them all. In their initial conversation, Starrk had seemed disinterested in his position of power, preferring to delegate to the Segunda and Tres instead of dealing with things himself. He seemed like an odd fit for Aizen's troupe, but Byakuya was under no illusions as to how powerful the Primera was.

Starrk had also offered his apologies for Ulquiorra's rough treatment, and had assured him that the Cuatro had been punished for his neglect.

Starrk had returned several times after that, never at the same time as Harribel, but he mostly curled up on the bed beside Byakuya's and fell asleep. His presence seemed to deter Szayel from getting too close, which the noble began to suspect was the idea. Perhaps the Primera Espada, too, had noticed the nicks and marks on his skin and knew the cause. Either way, he was grateful.

Even now, as Byakuya finished reading and slid from his bed, the strongest Espada was curled up asleep not far from him. The nobleman sighed deeply as he paced the laboratory restlessly, it was impossible to keep track of time. He no longer knew how many days it had been since his initial kidnap, but he knew he missed Soul Society, he missed Ichigo and he missed the comfort of Senbonzakura at his side.

Closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to calm the aching of his heart. If he thought too much about it he would simply drive himself to distraction. There was still an abundance of relief in his heart, knowing there had been no reported sightings of Ichigo in Hueco Mundo. He was glad that the hotheaded youth wasn't foolish enough to mount some kind of rescue mission.

“You seem restless, Byakuya-san.” Szayel's voice reached his ears.

“Perhaps a little.” He murmured, lifting his gaze to the whiskey eyes staring at him, “I will be fine once I have quietened the discord in my mind.”

“Meditation may help you ignore the issue, but it certainly won't cure it. But... I know something which might.” The scientist's long fingers wrapped around one of his wrists and pulled him closer.

Byakuya fought not to recoil as he felt warm breath over his face, “And what might that be, if I dare ask?”

“Always so suspicious.” The man crooned, guiding him across the room towards the command consoles on the far side, sliding behind him, Szayel pushed Byakuya forwards just a little, chin resting on his shoulder, “Mm, you might be stronger now I've fed you up a bit, but I'm not sure you'd be able to fight me while wearing those shackles... Interesting isn't it? How a little bit of metal can change things so much.”

“Szayel-san, kindly unhand me this instant.” He growled out, feeling the Octavo grind against him not so subtly.

“I'm only playing, you bring something of an unexpected excitement to my laboratory.” A teasing tug on his sash made Byakuya flinch, “You recall, I had to leave earlier, there was an Espada meeting. Quite unusual in the middle of the day...”

“What of it?” He muttered.

“I thought you might like a sneaky peak at what's been spotted on the cameras~” Szayel spoke in a sing-song tone, tapping at numerous buttons before one of the screens flickered into life.

Squinting at the poor quality of the image, Byakuya saw nothing for several long moments, but then he was sure his heart dropped into his belly at the sight of brilliant orange hair, “No...”

“Szayel!” Harribel's voice was unusually angry and the Octava leapt away from the nobleman like a scolded cat, “What do you think you're doing?”

“I really should insist on a lock.” Szayel hissed, eyes narrowed as he glared in the direction of the blonde woman, “No matter... I merely thought our guest deserved to know what's been going on.”

“You didn't... You showed him!” She stormed forwards until she was at Byakuya's side, her eyes narrowing as she saw the camera feed, “ _You_... Get out of my sight.”

Byakuya knew he should have been surprised when Szayel slinked away without so much as an argument, but his eyes were entirely focused on the group moving across the sands. Ichigo and Renji stood out like sore thumbs because of their hair, but he knew Rukia would never have let them make the journey alone and as soon as he saw her demure form he felt his body shake.

How could they be so foolish? How could they be so _stupid_?!

“Byakuya-san?” Harribel's voice was soft, concerned as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Is this real?” He demanded.

“Yes.” It was Starrk that spoke, no trace of tiredness in his voice as he slumped against the console on the raven haired Shinigami's other side, “It's been verified.”

“Three Shinigami with Taichou class reiatsu, two Humans and a Quincy...” The Tres whispered, “One of the Shinigami is distinguishable by his flaming orange hair, and a sword the same size as his body.”

Groaning, Byakuya dropped his head into his hand, all thoughts of hiding his weaknesses gone as he felt his heart pounding painfully, “Ichigo...”

“Yes.” She nodded once, “Aizen-sama was... Elated to discover his presence. It would appear it was his plan all along when he had you brought here.”

“You don't sound impressed.” He muttered.

“I... Dislike deception.” She admitted, “We have heard and seen a great deal of Ichigo Kurosaki both from Aizen-sama, and from Grimmjow. We know he is strong, personally I fear for the safety of my subordinates. I don't wish for them to come to harm.”

“Some of the Espada are less than pleased to know he betrayed Aizen-sama, I fear they may try to attack him to garner favour,” Starrk rumbled, “Though... I suspect such actions would be received poorly.”

Biting his tongue to refrain from swearing aloud, Byakuya sucked in a breath, “He shouldn't have come... None of them should...”

Starrk stared at him for a long moment, “The boy is strong. People with that level of raw power are not born, they are made, forged in the heat of battle. Forced to adapt and grow to save themselves, or save those important to them. I can understand why he would captivate Aizen-sama so much. He will likely grow stronger with each passing minute he remains here.”

“Yes, but he isn't the only one who will get stronger.” He huffed, considering Aizen's words.

“The Hollow within him concerns you?” Harribel asked.

“Not as much as it used to, they work in harmony for the most part. But... This place will effect him. I fear the results of that.” His heart was truly troubled.

The two Espada shared a long look before Harribel straightened her back and folded her arms under her ample bosom, “For what it may be worth... I shall forbid my Fracción from attempting to intercept the group. While I can do little about the Fracción of the other Espada, Starrk has at least a little authority over them.”

“Mm.” Starrk closed his eyes, “I will do my best to prevent an all out hunt. You need have no fear from myself, nor my Fracción. Neither of us care for combat.”

“You... Would do that?” He looked at the pair with surprise, “Why?”

“Because...” The blonde hesitated, “I despise needless violence, and I would not see my Fracción come to harm.”

“I on the other hand... Am simply lazy.” The brunet laughed.

Byakuya released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and bowed his head to them both, “You have my most esteemed gratitude for your offer. Thank you.”

“However...” Harribel's tone turned low and dangerous, “You must give us your word on something.”

“A promise?” He raised an eyebrow, “I fail to see what I could possibly promise either of you.”

The blonde woman hesitated, “Give us your word that you will remain as far away from Ulquiorra as possible, and as much as is possible... Do not remain alone with Szayel.”

Byakuya frowned at the request. It would be an easy one to agree to where it not for the bizarre look of concern in her eyes, “While I have no desire to spend any time at all with my former 'keeper' and I find my current accommodation growing less comfortable by the second, I find myself curious about why you would ask such a thing.”

“We can't say.” Starrk rumbled softly, “At least not yet. Simply, try to believe me when I say... Harribel and I are doing our best to look after you while you're kept here. I know it is an almost impossible ask but... I must ask anyway that you _try_ to trust us.”

“In the meantime, we will try and have Aizen-sama agree to moving you somewhere safer. While Szayel was the perfect candidate to deal with your injuries and frailty, you are well again now. You need to be somewhere... Different.” The Tres Espada let out a sigh, glancing towards Szayel's office.

He liked to think that his training hadn't dulled over the years, he had always been a fairly capable judge of character. He wanted to believe the two Espada before him were genuine. Everything suggested as much.

The nobleman let out a small breath and spoke quietly, “Then... I give you my word I will stay away from Ulquiorra, and be cautious around Szayel.”


	40. Privaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wall into Las Noches begins to give way beneath Ichigo's determination, revealing a whole new maze with new enemies to deal with. Can he restrain his Hollow?

The thickness of the wall was surprising, but Ichigo didn't let it deter him as he continued to hack and slash at the brickwork, occasionally firing off a Getsuga Tenshou to force progression forwards. His speed increased the deeper they got through the outer rim, and no one dared stop him through fear that he would turn that uncontrollable determination upon them.

With the amount of sound he had been making, there was little chance they were undetected and yet they hadn't be interrupted.

 _'Aizen's challenging us... Challenging me. I can smell it in the air, that self-righteous smugness. He probably thinks the more power I use the faster Shiro will surface. He's underestimating me.'_ Ichigo's thoughts were a whirlwind as he forced his way forwards, _'The Espada must know we're here... They've probably been watching since we first arrived... But they haven't attacked us, not properly. The Hollows... The Adjuchas... They were just a means of slowing us down... Monitoring our progress, our strength... This is all Aizen. He's the only one who could have stopped them attacking.'_

He had hoped that once he'd left the Sands behind, the singing would stop. It had been a naïve hope. The voices in his head were louder than ever, drowning Shiro out, drowning Zangetsu out. It was a chorus and he was the audience. Male, female, he could barely tell them apart anymore. But it made him want to give in. It made him want to submit and surrender. Anything to stop the never ending circle of siren calls tiptoeing every deeper towards the core of his very being.

A low rasp escaped his tightly pursed lips and his eyes narrowed as his left hand lifted against his will, fingers taut around an invisible force as a blood red Cero charged within his palm, illuminating the cracked and decayed mess he'd made of their makeshift entrance. He heard several startled cries from behind him, but there was nothing he could do. He wasn't controlling it.

Scarlet light flooded over them as the Cero exploded on contact with the wall, it was blinding and deafening in equal measure. Ichigo staggered forwards, releasing a triumphant roar as they were blinded by a different light, white and crisp.

They were in.

Stalking forwards, Zangetsu slung over his shoulder Ichigo examined the huge corridor. Stretching left and right with no sign of an end, ceilings so high that darkness enshrouded the top most section and cast shadows partway down the walls. Everything was white, pure unadulterated white. Pristine.

The strawberry half expected to be swooped down upon by angry Arrancar, yet as he heard his friends clamber out of the devastated tunnel behind him and more time ticked past, he realised that wasn't happening. For some reason.

“We need to move.” Ichigo murmured, wincing as pain speared down the right side of his head and face, leaving him with blurred vision and an unfamiliar numbness around his eye socket.

“Kurosaki-kun?” Orihime was at his side immediately, her sprites flying overhead as they checked him for injuries, “What's wrong, Kurosaki-kun?”

“I'm fine!” He barked, holding the side of his face as he yanked away from her touch, he felt guilty immediately, “I-I'll be fine... Just... Give me a minute...”

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the chorus of voices bouncing around the inside of his skull. He managed to regain enough concentration to stand straight, Ichigo faltered as he caught sight of the concerned expressions on his friend's faces and he offered an apologetic smile.

“Sorry.” He lowered his hand from his face, revealing his Hollowfied right eye, “Sorry... I didn't mean to snap... I know you're just worried about me...”

“Keep fighting.” Renji muttered, patting him on the shoulder.

“I will.” He let out a small breath.

Whether it was because of Shiro's input or not he couldn't tell, but Ichigo knew exactly where he was going. Ichigo led them, making several left turns, right turns, going straight for what felt like an eternity as his instincts guided him like an open map etched into his skull. The perplexity of the sensation only grew the further they travelled, yanking at his gut in an uncomfortable rhythm before he froze as they entered an impossibly large round room with five different doors.

“You've gotta be shitting me.” He slumped against the wall, running a hand down his face.

“This place is designed to split us up.” Ishida nudged his glasses up his nose bitterly, “Worst luck.”

“It's stupid to split up... These aren't regular Hollows we're going after, they're Espada.” Ichigo clenched a fist, “We should check each tunnel together... It would be safer...”

“Don't insult us Ichigo.” Rukia folded her arms, “We all came here knowing the odds. Checking the routes one by one will take too long, we are likely to be captured before we even reach the second tunnel. We must split up.”

He knew she was right, but he didn't want to admit it. He was worried for their safety, and for his sanity. So far he had clung onto control only because he knew he could kill them if he didn't, but once he was alone there was no knowing if he could stop his Hollow rising.

“Allow me to heal our injuries fully before we continue.” Orihime bit her lip, “If we truly have to go our separate ways, we should do it at full strength.”

“Thank you 'Hime.” The strawberry watched as she began healing the others, all the while trying to silence the abominable noise in his head.

He'd seen a little of her skills out on the Sands, but now as she really focused on healing everything perfectly he found himself amazed. She even went to the trouble of healing the ugly bruise Ulquiorra had left around his throat, it did little to settle the discord in his mind, but he felt better for no longer bearing the Espada's mark.

“Right,” Ichigo sheathed Zangetsu restlessly when they were ready, glancing at each tunnel in turn, he had a feeling that no matter which he took he would eventually end up in front of Aizen, “I fear that the moment we split up we'll start encountering the enemy. Where possible, avoid conflict, try to avoid being found, but do your best to keep moving forwards.”

“And if fighting becomes unavoidable?” Rukia raised an eyebrow.

Ichigo smirked at her, “If they shove you, shove back twice as hard.”

“Sounds good.” She matched his grin.

“Ishida, take Orihime with you, you know best how to keep her safe.” He told the Quincy, seeing a momentary flash of gratitude from the man.

“I know it's old fashioned,” Renji cleared his throat, “But there used to be a ceremony in the Goeti Thirteen, performed on the eve of battle. Put your hands over mine.”

Ichigo was reluctant at first, but a glare from Rukia forced him to place his hand on top of his friend's, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched his redheaded friend.

“We at this moment head into the decisive battle. Have faith that our blades will not shatter. Have faith that our hearts will not waver,” the Fukutaichou spoke loudly, and Ichigo could help but notice how each of them shared a long look, a silent wish of good luck, “And even if our paths should diverge, we all share a heart of iron. Swear that even if the ground beneath us should be rent asunder, we will live and return to this place again.”

They broke away as he finished talking and darted down different paths, Ichigo was sure that if they'd lingered for even a moment longer they would never have been able to make the break.

Ichigo wove his way down the hallway he had chosen, narrowed eyes focusing only on what was ahead, blotting out everything else to the very best of his ability, ignoring the sweat rolling down the nape his his neck, ignoring the burning sensation in his chest, ignoring the sensation of being watched. He was sure the corridor was going to continue indefinitely, the echo of his sandals hitting the stone floor was disturbingly loud in his ears, face setting itself in his renown scowl.

A gasp of surprise left him as he saw a light at the end of the corridor, speeding up as he rushed towards it, eager to be anywhere else than in the same monotonous surroundings. Eyes widening as he stepped into the room beyond, only for the floor to crumble beneath his feet and send him plummeting downwards towards what looked like a huge training room with several floor to ceiling pillars.

He tried to right himself as he fell, certain he could roll to avoid damaging anything too much, but he was saved the trouble when something sharp and hard struck him in the back, hurling him into one of the pillars he'd seen.

Blood splattered the stone as he made contact, body arching under the force of what had hit him, shuddering, he turned his head, eyebrows raising and his throat constricting as he found himself looking at a well built man, with black hair and blue eyes and the remnants of a Hollow mask taking the appearance of a small horned plate over his forehead.

“It seems you were in something of a hurry, niño, to ignore your footing so completely until it was too late.” The man's voice was deep, his smile wide.

Prising himself off the pillar and sliding to the ground, Ichigo coughed hard, holding his ribs and wincing as he appraised the man, “I am in a hurry, so I'd appreciate it if you'd let me pass.”

“Let you pass?” The Arrancar repeated, “I'm afraid that is quite impossible.”

“Of course it is.” He spat a globule of blood and saliva to the side as he picked himself up, wavering faintly as he lifted Zangetsu, feeling the bindings come loose, “I don't have time to play around.”

“Who's playing, niño?” That smile grew as he lifted his Zanpakutō halfway out of its sheath, “Whirl, Giralda!”

Ichigo gasped under the force of the reiatsu, sheiling his eyes as the wind around him picked up in response, swirling around the Arrancar's body like a tornado, revealing large bone horns on his shoulders and armour that start at his feet, curled around his calves and jutted out at his waist into two more spikes. The two enormous cyclones now spewing from the exhaust spouts on the Arrancar's legs were like birds, large bone beaks chattering threateningly as they faced his direction.

“Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio, Privaron Espada, Números one hundred and three.”

“One hundred and three, huh?” The strawberry frowned, “I didn't realise you guys could count that high.”

“Glibness will get you nowhere.”

“True enough.” Ichigo agreed.

Letting out a roar, the Shinigami shot forwards, ducking and darting and side stepping the vast cyclones that threatened to impale him, swinging with apt determination and cleaving through anything that got in his path, the voices in his head grew louder, he felt like his ear drums would burst from the pressure building inside him.

“Too slow!” The Arrancar barked, appearing suddenly and striking Ichigo hard in the ribs.

The strawberry spat in response to the pain, but instead of being tossed aside as intended, he dug his feet into the ground, twisting sharply on his heels and dragging Zangetsu up sharply, snarls and gnashing teeth spilling out in response as he felt his blade cleave through something. Blood splashed his face and he saw the deep groove he'd carved into the Privaron Espada's chest, shock evident in Dordoni's eyes.

“What raw power, niño.” Dordoni mused, sliding backwards to put some space between them as he hurled his cyclones out again, “But I sense greater power within you, why not show me that delicious Hollowfication you're bottling up inside.”

“No.” He said bluntly, leaping into the air to avoid the lashing whips of wind threatening his space, vaulting his body forwards and bringing his blade down in a powerful arc, “Getsuga Tenshou!”

He wasn't sure if the surge of energy made contact, he wasn't really bothered, his eyes were growing wide, savage, his teeth in a constant state of grinding as he felt the flares of Hollow reiatsu lashing against his own, tangling and battling, trying to draw out everything he kept inside.

“I. Said. NO!” He shouted suddenly, rage flowing out of him in a torrent as in unison another Getsuga Tenshou was released and a large Cero shot from the tip of his outstretched blade.

Panting heavily Ichigo staggered, digging the tip of his sword into the stone floor and using it to support himself. He hadn't intended for either of those attacks. He hadn't made them happen. The room was spinning in front of him, his body growing heavy, his arms getting limp, his knees shaking under his weight. He felt pathetic. Where was his training? His calmness, his control? Everything Aizen had taught him, everything Byakuya had taught him. Why couldn't he grasp it now when he needed it?

Closing his eyes for a moment, he tilted his head back, allowing his breath to escape in short sharp gasps as sweat continued to roll over his skin, the collar of his shihakusho damp.

_'Calm down. I have to calm down. Getting angry is making it harder to hold back.'_

He gave some serious thought to ripping Shiro to shreds when they got out of this mess, but despite his discomfort he found himself missing the overly cocky voice of his Hollow. It was too quiet without him. And yet too loud with that inane singing.

Where had he gone? Why had he stopped talking? It wasn't good... In fact it couldn't be much worse. He cursed.

Ichigo's eyes snapped open as he felt Hollow reiatsu flaming around him, its tone threatening and dark, he scowled and directed his ire towards the clearing smoke across the room, seeing his opponent stumbling towards him, blood running down his face and chest, sporting deep burns across his skin.

“Are you...” Ichigo laughed suddenly, “Are you trying to intimidate me with your reiatsu?”

“For someone looking as rough as you do, niño, you certainly are arrogant.” Dordoni's voice was even despite the damage he had taken.

Taking a moment to wipe his face with his sleeve, Ichigo lifted Zangetsu again, “I prefer to think of it as confidence.”

He stilled as he sensed Renji's reiatsu in the distance, it was fluctuating enough to suggest that he had also entered combat, he clenched his teeth as he battled the desire to go and help him. He managed to shake it off and looked directly at the Arrancar in front of him.

“I really don't have time to play around with you anymore.” He frowned faintly, remembering in an instant the reason he was in Hueco Mundo to begin with, “The Espada took someone from me, someone important. I'm here to take him back.”

“If you're referring to the Shinigami that Ulquiorra and Nnoitra brought here, you'll find him in the Espada palace belonging to Szayelapporo Granz. But there are many, many Arrancar and Espada between here and there. Are you sure you'll be able to contain your Hollow for that many encounters?” There was a smirk on his face now, elegant moustache quirking.

Ichigo felt his mouth go dry at his question, fingers gripping Zangetsu until his knuckles turned white, “Who knows?”

Lifting his blade high above him, he felt his entire body relax, his muscles unwinding and loosening as his reiatsu began to pulse through him, trails of bright blue swirling at his feet, raising higher until they encapsulated his entire body and sword, his eyes began to glimmer with resolve, with determination.

He shot forwards with a burst of Shunpo, weaving his way through the air, Ichigo released a yell as his Zanpakutō clashed against Dordoni's lifted leg, the bone armour bending beneath the force of his attack, slowly beginning to splinter.

Watching surprise etch its way onto the former Espada's face, he released a truly feral smile that Shiro would have been proud of, “Getsuga Tenshou!”

At point blank range there was no where for Dordoni to run, the blast of energy cleaved its way through him like he was nothing. Ichigo touched down behind him, glaring at the passage way ahead, his path now clear. He took a moment to glance over his shoulder as his opponent collapsed to the floor, he was still breathing but it was shallow.

Ichigo glowered at the man, barely flinching as black ink beginning to creep across his left eye. For the first time since before the events of Sôkyoku Hill, his face was devoid of all emotion. The strawberry stared down at the former Espada, watching those grey-blue eyes turn upwards towards him, fear growing across the Arrancar's face at what he saw.

“Sorry, Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio, Privaron Espada, Números one hundred and three... If you'd fought me on a good day, I'd probably let you live.” His head tilted slightly as he brought Zangetsu up, aiming the blade downwards towards the man's head, “But you didn't fight me on a good day.”

Two fully gold and black eyes turned towards the exit, disappearing in a snap of Shunpo as he returned his blade to his back, the subtle tang of blood tickled his nose and the metallic taste lingered on his tongue, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. Not the clacking of his sandals against the floor, not the sting of his injuries healing at a rapid speed, not the bubbling desire to laugh that rose in his chest. The only thing that mattered was the next fight, the next battle, the next victory. Finding Byakuya.


	41. Battles Of Las Noches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are eyes everywhere within Las Noches, always watching; always listening; always present, and Aizen knows few better ways to entertain himself while his home is under siege, than to sit back and observe.

Aizen watched through the security feeds as the intruders each stumbled into battle, he wasn't surprised when Ichigo became the first to overpower his opponent, it was more or less what he wanted. Allowing his attention to shift from the struggling strawberry for a while, he took notice of the screen monitoring Renji Abarai in his battle against one of Grimmjow's Fracción, Yylfordt Granz. Smirking slightly, he turned the audio on so he could listen for a while.

Renji was throwing the extending blade of his Zanpakutō forwards, twisting his wrist to force it to arc to the left, knocking out a row of large blue pillars while narrowly missing the slender blond figure of his opponent. Hissing as he wiped the deep cut on his cheek, smudging blood across his skin, the Fukutaichou darted to the side as his assailant appeared out of nowhere, slashing him across the back as he dodged.

Aizen watched as Renji seemed to peer off to the side, apparently able to sense the roiling reiatsu of his companions as they each encountered their own battles, he could just about make out the distress on his face and chuckled to himself.

“Cocky, aren't you, to look away in the middle of a fight?” The blond Arrancar then shot towards him, twisting under the extending blade of Zabimaru as he impaled the redhead in the side, smirking wildly, “Is this the best Soul Society has to offer?”

“Tch,” Renji spat blood, hunching over as he glowered at his enemy, quivering faintly from the pain blossoming warmly across his skin, “Who do you think you're talking to?”

“Why don't you tell me, Shinigami?” Came the sneering response.

“Division Six Fukutaichou, Renji Abarai.” He growled, gripping the hand that was grasping the sword still impaled in his side, squeezing firmly before yanking himself back, clenching his teeth against the grunt of pain that threatened to escape him, “Bankai!”

While tossed backwards by the force of the unleashed power, Yylfordt easily skidded to a stop and clicked his tongue impatiently as the vast bone structure of the huge snake headed Bankai was revealed to him, “I am Yylfordt Granz, Números Quince. Skewer Del Toro!”

The current leader of Las Noches sat back in amusement, resting his chin on the back of his hand thoughtfully as he watched the enlarged form of the bull-like Arrancar ploughing its way through the Shinigami's Bankai, blood splashing the walls. His chocolate brown gaze then turned to one of the other screens, his interest coming to rest on the sight of Rukia Kuchiki being constricted by the release form of Luppi Antenor.

Rukia was struggling valiantly as one of the eight tentacles belonging to the Arrancar in front of her, tightened dramatically around her middle, crushing her ribs in on themselves and leaving her rasping for breath, her vision becoming blurred as the taste of bile reached her senses, blood pounding in her ears as the coldness of the room made her quiver within his grasp.

Aizen was certain she was going to be the first confirmed fatality on the side of the intruders, and was almost disappointed that she would be dealt with so quickly, however he sat forwards with renewed interest when he saw her relax and move just enough within her binds to bring her hands together.

“Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel. With light, divide this into six! Ye Lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! On the wall of blue flame, inscribe a twin lotus. In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens! Bakudō 61: Rikujōkōrō! Hadō 73: Sōren Sōkatsui!” There was no tremble in her voice as she recounted the dual incantations flawlessly, releasing the beam of yellow first, six wedges spearing Luppi around his waist, immobilising him as the twin beams of brilliant blue flame rocketed towards the startled Arrancar.

The moment the Kidō made contact, the tentacle ensnaring her loosened enough for her to slip free, hitting the floor hard and crying out as her leg twisted under her weight, light headed and struggling to her feet, Rukia drew her Zanpakutō at last.

“Dance, Sode no Shirayuki.” The gentle ring of bells followed the release of her Shikai was followed by the pale ribbon that swirled from the pommel, “Some no mai, Tsukishiro!”

At her command, she turned her Zanpakutō upside down, the white blade glowing brightly as she made a slashing motion towards where Luppi was still recovering from the severe scorch marks over his lithe body, his eyes like daggers as he threw his tentacles towards her again, gasping in surprise as a cylindrical blast of ice shot from the floor to the ceiling, capturing his appendages within its frigid confines, drawing a screech of pain from his lips.

“I will not fall so easily, Arrancar, not while my Nii-sama is imprisoned in this place.” Came the hiss from her lips.

“Your Nii-sama?” Luppi snarled, yanking at his tentacles experimentally as he tried to break them free, “You sure are arrogant, like all Shinigami.”

“No.” She almost whispered, lifting her sword again, “It is not arrogance. Someone as sarcastic and mocking as you would never understand, as I do, that I must have belief in my friends as well as in myself. I am Rukia Kuchiki, of Division Thirteen, and I will make you regret taking my Nii-sama. Tsugi no mai, Hakuren!”

Aizen sat back as he sensed Luppi's reiatsu disappear amidst the avalanche of freezing cold air, leaving Rukia panting heavily, yet victorious. He raised one perfect eyebrow in surprise, not having expected her to have grown so much in such a short space of time, she was truly impressive and had great potential to get even stronger. Why, she hadn't even stopped to ask the name of her attacker.

Eyes narrowing, Aizen straightened just a little in his seat, “What do you want, Gin?” He murmured, sensing the mans approach.

“Ne, Aizen Taichou, I was wonderin' if ya had noticed all the fightin' going on in the lower levels, but I see that ya have.” The silver haired fox came to a stop as he looked down at the screens, “My, my they have been makin' a mess.”

“Indeed,” the brunet mused, glancing towards another of the monitors, “Hm, those two have found quite an interesting enemy.”

“Those are two of Ichi-Berry's Human friends, aren't they?” Gin leaned closer to the screen, getting a good look at the battle field, “Oh my, is that...”

“Chelute Rudbornn, the Exequias.” Aizen confirmed, “It will be interesting to test the power of a Quincy.”

“A Quincy?” The silver haired man clapped his hands twice in excitement, “May I join ya to watch? It has been some time since I've even heard the word, let alone seen one.”

“As long as you remain quiet, you may stay.” He reclined in his seat, the Humans' fight was already well under way, with several hundred of the Exequias' Calavera clones attacking in his stead while he watched on from afar.

“Santen Kesshun!” The Human woman threw her hands forwards, watching as the triangular shield repelled an attack that would have severed her husbands' arm from his shoulder, following instantly with a sharp shout of, “Koten Zanshun!” Her offensive sprite flew forwards, carving his way through multiples of the cloned enemies before he returned to her side.

“Thank you, Orihime!” Ishida called over to her, smiling momentarily before returning his attention to the battle, firing volleys of arrows into the mass of bodies, watching as they struck down individuals who were merely replaced by more at a rate he could barely contend with.

The pair managed to move themselves closer together, covering each other where they could, Orihime's quick skills allowing her to negate most of the incoming damage while healing what couldn't be avoided. It was arduous for them both, even while a Quincy could function better in places with highly dense reiatsu, he was being pushed to his limit while trying to both attack and defend against so many numbers.

Letting out a rare curse as he felt his wife being torn from his side, Ishida abruptly released his control over his bow, instead reaching around for the belt of Seele Schneider at his hip, drawing one with a flourish he began ducking and diving through the never ending horde of enemies, seeing a flash of burnt orange hair somewhere ahead of him.

Using Hirenkyaku to move across the room, he shot towards where he could see his wife, twisting at the last minute to dodge an incoming attack, he released a small hiss as his thigh was snagged by a blade, hastily shoving his own soul-cutting sword through the skull of the body responsible. He dropped down beside his wife, tucking her under his free arm protectively, anger growing as he saw a triad of cuts across her body.

“Uryū.” Orihime's voice was timid but her smile was comforting as she looked up at him, “I have a plan. If you can get me to the main body, I think I can defeat him, or at the very least leave him open for you to finish off.”

Glancing towards the Arrancar who had introduced himself earlier as Rudbornn, he swallowed, not wanting to put her in any further direct danger, however, they were fast running out of options, “Alright. Hold on to me.”

She gave him a single nod before releasing a startled squeal as he shot into the air with her, glancing towards the blood splashed floor, her stomach lurched at the height they had so easily reached, flinching as the cloned skeletal faced creatures began to follow their path, her chest tightened at the speed her husband began to move at, darting and weaving his way from one side of the room to the other, the world turning into a mesh of blurred colour around them.

Her feet touched the floor of the platform Rudbornn was stood on, he had released his true form at the very start of their conflict, the spine-like bone branches that cardinally struck out from his body were frighteningly effective at growing new clones, but as she came face to face with him she felt her fear melt away.

“My humble apologies for keeping you waiting, Rudbornn-san.” She bowed her head to the man, closing her eyes momentarily as she felt burning flares of Ichigo's reiatsu somewhere within the palace, “My name is Orihime Ishida, I will be your opponent.”

“Good evening, Human girl. You are brave to face me alone.” He sounded rational, yet there was blood thirst there behind the pleasantries.

“No... Not brave...” She lifted her gaze slowly, glowering across at him with the heated determination of a sun, “Angry.”

Aizen tapped a finger to his lips, her powers were truly fascinating that was for sure, he had never seen anything quite like it. She almost seemed to encroach into the territory of a God. On the outside, she seemed weak; uncertain of her strength; reliant on others, and yet the moment she had sensed Ichigo's reiatsu something had changed. She had changed. She held herself tall, proud, confident. He imagined from the way she behaved that once upon a time her control over her offensive techniques had been poor, she didn't appear to be the sort of person to take pleasure in hurting anyone, enemy or ally, but there was growth, pain and change.

Orihime lifted her hands, staring into the empty eyes of the Arrancar, “Sōten Kisshun.”

A vibrant wave of orange energy washed between them, engulfing the Exequias before he could react, his fists instantly slamming against the barrier in an effort to escape, yet he couldn't even place a crack in it.

Her expression darkened, only slightly, the strain of her power increased under his aggression but she persisted, “I reject!” She called out.

Gin nearly fell out of his seat as Aizen stood abruptly at the sight of her power, watching as the brunet rested his hands on the console, leaning over it almost hungrily, lips slightly apart, eyes widen, breath catching with an eagerness that was rarely revealed by the man.

Rudbornn was screaming, twisting and convulsing as his Resurrecciōn form was regressed against his permission, bone branches uncoiling, unravelling, shrinking back into his body, growths on his arms and skulls of his clones crumbling into meagre fragments of dust around his feet. His yells of pain turned guttural, desperate, pleading as his body almost seemed to turn inside out with the force of her rejection, the sound of cracking, breaking bones was a loud echo that seemed to bounce around forever inside the barrier.

There was no mercy in her eyes, no pity, no remorse. She had felt all of those things in the past, allowed herself to fall victim to people far crueller than she could ever be. She had been hurt, tormented, twisted by them, broken and rebuilt by the man she loved. She owed it to him to be strong enough to defend them and their children from the monsters under their beds, and the monsters inside their heads.

She drew one hand off to the side, lifting her fingers and touching one of her blue hair pins, her usually warm eyes narrowed coldly, “Koten Zanshun. Finish him, Tsubaki.”

“What is she?” Aizen asked aloud, more to himself than to his comrade, “Such power, it heals and revokes. Temporal regression? Spatial regression? No... It's a complete rejection of events. At her very will she can undo whatever she desires.”

“How can a mere Human have that kind of power?” Gin asked, frowning faintly.

“It would be almost impossible.” The brunet mused, his eyes narrowing slightly, “Unless... They are his friends from the World of the Living, friends he had as a child... Could it be... Could it possibly be...”

If he hadn't been concerned before, Gin was now. He had never heard Aizen so ecstatically excited about something that he failed to answer a question in proper fashion, he gulped softly, “Aizen Taichou? What do you think caused her powers?”

Pausing as if remembering the silver haired fox was in the room, Aizen lowered himself back into his seat, pressing his fingertips together precariously, “The night I met Ichigo and inadvertently used the Hōgyoku on him instead of his parents there were rivets of energy that shot out of the Hōgyoku. One of them impaled Ichigo, giving him the immense power he now wields, the others fired out of the house. I never suspected anything of it, but perhaps those tendrils sensed Ichigo's reiatsu on the bodies of his friends, due to the close contact they would have, and as such... Afflicted them as well. If that is the case, which I think it may well be, things will only get more interesting from here on.”

Acknowledging the information with a small sound at the back of his throat, Gin noticed how Rudbornn's reiatsu disappeared and a quick glance at the monitor confirmed his defeat via the pool of crumbled dust within the Human girls' barrier, before he moved his attention to the last of Ichigo's Human allies, interested to see how the fight would unfold.

Chad ran towards the Arrancar, it was easy to see the bright orange afro even amidst the smoke roused by their close quarters combat, violent clashes of fists and feet made far more destructive than they should have been by their over the top strength.

The Arrancar, who had identified himself to Chad as Gantenbainne Mosqueda, had released his true form which revealed elongated, heavily dome-shaped armour plating and dragon head blades at his wrists, to say nothing of the tail running aggressively down his back.

In terms of strength, Chad knew he was outmatched, but the flares of reiatsu he had sensed from his friends was spurring him on, making him hit harder and faster than he would normally have been able to. He had to find Ichigo. He could almost smell the taint of darkened reiatsu that seemed to waft across the entire palace from the orange haired Shinigami, he feared for his safety, and for the safety of anyone who dared get in his way.

“El Directo!” The usually quiet man roared, throwing his demonic right arm forwards as a burst of charged reiatsu blasted forth, tearing across the space towards his Arrancar enemy. He wasted no time in making sure the shot connected, rushing forwards to follow up with another devastating series of punches.

Thrown backwards by a harsh strike to his middle, the large Human hit a wall, sliding down it until he was crumpled on the floor, panting heavily as a few beads of sweat and blood rolled down his face, pooling together on his chin before dripping their way free.

Hits were hailed upon him viciously and without a break, certain his body would surrender to the impending darkness that threatened to overwhelm him as he received several lashes to the head, he felt the depths of his power calling to him, drawing him in, encircling him in a glowing protectiveness that made the pain fade from the forefront of his mind.

Body moving of its own accord, his left hand, his human hand, rose from his lap, catching one of Mosqueda's huge arms in his grasp, his eyes filled with the need to protect and a sharp shout left him, armour not dissimilar to that on his right arm, rippled across his skin, swallowing his left arm whole in a flurry of white and red.

He felt stronger, felt faster, felt better. His mind was alive with new possibilities, fingertips glowing with give pale blue disks of energy crackling threatening as he clenched his new fist, “La Muerte.” The words came from his lips without him knowing them, his arm shooting forwards, striking the Arrancar in the chest.

There was a second of motionlessness, silence, crisp white noise. Then, Mosqueda's armour shattered, a large demonic skull punching its way into the wall behind him, branding its mark there forever more.

Aizen released a small breath as he watched the fight come to an anticlimactic ending, despite his initial interest in the Human boy's powers, he wasn't as impressed with him as he was with the girl. Closing his eyes for several long moments, he heard Gin get up and leave, the door to the room closing sharply behind the fox.

Tapping his fingers to his lips, the brunet rose to his feet, allowing his eyes to open on the one screen that forever held his interest. Ichigo. He could feel him, even while he was still so far away, his reiatsu had grown stronger and more prominent. But so had that darkness. His Hollow was worming its way to freedom. It was so close now... So close to toppling over the brim, like a cup filled with too much tea. A single droplet, a single splash was all it would take and...

He let out a soft sigh, lips curving at the corners into a smirk. Everything was going according to plan.

With a snap of his fingers and a flicker of his own reiatsu, a messenger appeared on bended knee in the room behind him, head bowed low, and he spoke in a quick yet even voice, “Have our Séptima, Sexta, Quinto and Cuatro Espada head to the lower levels to round up our guests. Instruct them to leave Ichigo Kurosaki untouched.”


	42. The Truth Hurts: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ichigo comes to terms with the regret of slaying the Privaron, he comes face to face with an Espada. But unlike those he has already met in the past, this one has a familiar face and with the familiarity of Aaroniero Arruruerie... Comes a lot of pain.

Ichigo sucked in a shaky breath, finally slowing to a stop, his back hitting the wall as he slid down, crouching uncomfortably as his emotions caught up with him. He stared across the corridor, and felt his chest tighten as guilt bubbled to the surface amidst the melancholic calm he'd been washed with, after his fight with Dordoni.

He'd tried so hard to be a better person, to break away from all the bad things he had done while under Aizen's command. And yet in a fleeting moment it had all come back, Dordoni hadn't been a threat, he'd been badly injured by the final attack... He didn't need to kill him the way he had. He didn't need to be so... Hollow.

“It's this _place_... This air... These walls...” He groaned out, and ran his fingers through his hair.

As Ichigo forced himself to stand, his heart quivered with regret and a growing sense of dread. The only thing spurring him on was knowing that Byakuya was somewhere inside the winding chaos of corridors and stairwells. If he could just see him, speak to him... Confirm he was unharmed everything would settle back into place. It had to.

He started walking, following the twisting path for only a matter of seconds when his body jolted and the world seemed to stop. He felt a radiating pulse leave his body, sweeping far away from his location. Puzzled as he was, his form soon jerked when his senses tingled in reaction to the multiple presences of powerful reiatsu swelling within the palace walls.

Renji. Rukia. Orihime. Ishida. Chad. He could _feel_ them... No! He could _see_ them. Little brightly burning blue flames flickering amidst the swirling darkness.

Renji was wounded, badly. His flame was dancing wildly in a panicked, fluttering turmoil. That stark Rukongai upbringing refusing to let him fade and die. Rukia was hurt too, but her flame burned victoriously in the wake of battle, she'd defeated her foe and was moving forwards again. Orihime and Ishida were side by side, the Quincy's flame was tall and proud much like the man it belonged to, while Orihime's was smaller and timid, yet there was something within it, a determination he'd never seen from her before. She was growing braver, stronger, bolder. Chad's flame was bigger than the other's, probably a reflection of his own being. There was something distinctively not wholly Human about it, but it was powerful.

But the Espada... They were unbelievably mighty. Compared to his friends their flames were enormous, bulging, white hot suns. He could recognise some of them. He could see Grimmjow, feral flame flickering back and forth in a flurry of hyper activity; Nnoitra, his flame was tall and gangly just like his body, but it was sharp and biting and violent too; Ulquiorra, his flame was bland and unshaped by his personality, just as empty as he was. There was a fourth Espada moving near to the other three, but he didn't know them.

He sucked in a breath, realising with horror that the four Espada were travelling at great speed towards his friends. They were going to capture them, or worse kill them! He knew he couldn't reach them in time to help. His only hope was to carry on alone. If he found Byakuya they could work together to free the others.

Staggering as the sensation and sight faded without warning, Ichigo tasted bile on his tongue, covering his mouth to stop himself being sick, “What was that?” He gasped.

“ _ **Pesquisa.”**_

The singing voices rattling around in his skull answered at the same time, the echo was deafening and he found himself wincing; holding his head and scowling as he started moving again. It sounded nothing like Shiro, it was the same high pitched tone from before, the siren call. That tempting, inviting suction trying to draw the darkness out.

Pesquisa was a Hollow ability. He was sure Gin had mentioned it once in a passing conversation while they'd waiting for Aizen to arrive for one of their meetings. Why had he been talking about it? He couldn't remember. What was it, that he had said? What was it?

“ _It's like an pulse of energy that they send out, it reacts with reiatsu. I guess it let's 'em see people and gauge how powerful an enemy is. Whether or not they're worth attackin'. No one wants to get stuck against a small fry, ya know?”_

That was it. Tensing, Ichigo felt a swell of stress rising to the surface, Shiro's silence was more troubling than ever. He needed that damned Hollow to answer his questions. Why had he been able to use Pesquisa? He had never been able to sense reiatsu unless it belonged to someone he was utterly familiar with, like Renji or Rukia, or unless he was straining so hard that he became blind to everything else, like the time he'd broken into Byakuya's office.

A soft breath escaped him. It was most likely because Shiro was still being drawn to the surface, he knew that, he just wanted confirmation. But in the end, it didn't really matter. Those Espada were heading towards his friends, and they had no idea they were in danger! He had to find Byakuya and rescue them before it was too late.

He turned and ran, leaping randomly into intervals of Shunpo. Teeth clenched, fists tightened, movements noisy and chaotic as he dashed down the corridor as swiftly as his legs would carry him. There were curves and turns in the hallways, but thankfully no forks. A straightforward rush to the end. He growled softly as he came to the bottom of an impossibly long staircase, but he didn't dare stop.

His legs were heavy and felt like jelly, but he propelled himself up the steps at least two at a time, spurring himself on with an almost reckless abandon, arms pumping at his sides to make things easier.

Ichigo burst through the door at the top of the stairs, letting out a shout of surprise as the world switched from a monochromatic white to a blisteringly bold polychromatic universe. His breath was almost knocked from his lungs as he threw up a hand to shield his eyes, wincing as he peeked between his fingers at the vast blue sky overhead.

“What the fuck?” He licked chapped lips as he felt a breeze tousle his hair, “I-I thought this was inside... Where's the fucking ceiling?”

Scowling upwards, allowing his gaze to roam as he took in the sights of the multitude of pale buildings scattered across the subtle soft sands, he could see a vast wall encasing the area, but the lack of a ceiling was throwing him off. Peering over the edge of the bridge he found himself to be on, his stomach lurched as he realised just how high up he was, it sent a shiver down his spine.

The sun was warm on the back of his neck and he found himself looking back up towards the sky, it was an impossibility that he couldn't entirely wrap his head around. Shaking himself out of his revere, he started across the bridge, his movements slower as he tried once again to sense of the reiatsu of his companions, though, to his annoyance the Pesquisa seemed to have gone into hibernation, leaving him blind to their whereabouts.

A heavy sigh escaped him and he pinched the bridge of his nose. His entire head hurt. It felt heavy and tight, like someone was squeezing his skull between bare hands, squishing everything together with undeniable force. It wasn't just an external feeling though, it was internal as well, like his skull was just a little too small for everything stored inside.

Ichigo groaned and slapped himself firmly, trying to tear himself away from the sensation. A sharp breath escaped his lips as he turned on his heel, eyes widening as he found himself staring at a figure clad in white. With an elongated, white mask covered in eight holes and a modified white dress garb that covered its entire body, clad in a frilly coat and a single white glove, the being before him was the perfect picture of eccentricity.

The strawberry took an involuntary step backwards, he could _smell_ the Hollow reiatsu seeping out of the body in front of him, it was strong and dense and made his senses go wild with a mixture of excitement and dread. A low growl resonated in the air between them, and it took him a moment to realise the sound had rippled up from his on throat. Instinct.

“ _ **Espada.”**_ The voices began purring in his ears again, louder, crisper than before.

Ichigo swallowed, throat constricting as he felt like a thousand eyes were piercing his body in unison, examining every inch of his very soul for judgement. Worth.

“Come with me.” The unnaturally deep voice that came from behind the mask surprised him, the Espada disappeared in a burst of Sonido, reappearing further up the bridge, leading him towards the large white and green building up ahead.

“You can't be serious?” He muttered, eyes narrowing.

The Espada paused and glanced over his shoulder, speaking in an even more shockingly high pitch voice, “Follow.”

“Alright, alright.” He said gruffly, trudging after the white clad figure begrudgingly.

As the large doors ground open, Ichigo was bathed in darkness, he persisted and followed the Espada inside, refusing to flinch as the entrance juddered to a close again the moment he was fully over the threshold.

“Sorry,” the deep voice was back, “I simply cannot seem to stand the sunlight.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Ichigo mockingly gestured to his hair, “I burn to a crisp if I'm out in it for too long.”

“Then we are both blessed that the sunlight can't make it in here.” The pitched changed mid-way through his speech, as his bare hand rose to his mask, “Allow me to remove this... And greet you properly.”

Holding his breath as the mask came free, Ichigo felt his world turn upside down in an instant, forcing him to take several steps backwards until he hit the wall, mouth falling open in abstract horror as his gut churned.

“My name is Aaroniero. Noveno Espada. Aaroniero Arruruerie.” His voice now devoid of both high and low pitches, instead settling for a far more familiar baritone as the face of Isshin Kurosaki made itself known.

“I-Impossible.” Ichigo gasped out, “It's can't be... Dad... Are you really... How...”

His knees were shaking as a thousand thoughts washed over him, he knew it was impossible, he knew his father was dead and gone. The man in front of him couldn't possibly be Isshin. He was killed along side the rest of the Kurosaki family.

“It's been a while, Ichigo!” Isshin broke into a bright and positively goofy grin, jumping down from the platform he had settled on in an attempt to drop kick the unsuspecting strawberry, “I'd say you are about twenty six years late for our family time! There's only one acceptable punishment for that!”

Eyes widening at the sudden familiar scene, he darted to the side, narrowing dodging the heel of a boot that would have likely broken his nose, “W-What are you doing?!” He half shrieked.

“You truly are my son, to dodge so effectively! But your guard... Is... Down!” The man turned on the spot, slamming his heel into the still stunned Shinigami's shins, knocking him flying before his hands wrapped around an exposed leg, his foot pressing into the middle of the strawberry's back.

Ichigo felt a flow of familial memories flowing through his body and without thinking about it, he brought a hand up, punching the man squarely in the jaw, throwing him backwards as he bounced up onto his feet.

“What is wrong with you, Goat-Face?!” He yelled, panting harshly as he glared across at the bearded male.

Instead of responding initially, Isshin picked himself up and rubbed his jaw tenderly, sitting heavily against one of the nearby pillars, he puffed out a breath and reached into the pockets of his coat, patting himself down momentarily before producing a small pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Hollows can smoke?” Ichigo blinked, staring with a little less anger, instead giving in to the puzzlement he was feeling.

The older of the two fixed him with a surprised look at his question, chuckling softly as he popped a cigarette between his lips and lit it, “It's an old habit I've never been able to break. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get a decent brand here.”

Biting the inside of his mouth as he battled with the rational part of him that was still stating the fact that his father was long dead, while his eyes were very much stating that his father was sat in front of him. His voice, his looks, his mannerisms... His stupid round house kicks. It was all there. All accurate... All true... All real...

“H-How... Is this possible?” He asked, taking a hesitant step forwards, “I... You... I thought... I thought you were dead...”

Making a small sound of disbelief, Isshin pointed with his cigarette, “Idiot, I _am_ dead. Why else would I be here in Hueco Mundo, looking at you in your Shinigami uniform. More importantly, how is _that_ possible? I was under the impression that you were still alive.”

Gulping and shuffling his feet, Ichigo looked off to one side, “It... It's a long story...”

“I'm guessing that bastard, Aizen, had a hand in it, right?” A ring of smoke puffed its way across the room.

Glancing around, the strawberry rubbed his hands together uncertainly, “Yeah, he does... But... You don't sound very fond of him. You're one of his Espada though... What's that about?”

The older Kurosaki shrugged, “I'm surviving the only way I can in this place. That doesn't mean I accept everything that man has to say.”

“But... He was the reason Karin and Yuzu... Mum... He's the reason you all died! How can you follow him at all?! Even if it is to survive?” He felt a tang of anger bite into his words as he glared at the man.

“You're not exactly in the best position to talk about following him, are you?” Isshin wagged a finger, scolding him, “I know bits and pieces about what happened in Soul Society, but Aizen tends to keep me in the dark about things concerning you. I guess he's worried about my loyalties.”

Ichigo failed to suppress a hiss and glowered at the floor, “I didn't know what had happened until a few months ago. I had no memory of my Human life! When I finally remembered... I did everything I could to stop what he was planning!”

“I know, I know. I heard from the Sexta. Seems like you have some interesting and unique powers of your own these days,” he took a deep drag from his guilty pleasure, “When I heard you'd broken into Las Noches, I had to find you Ichigo.”

The strawberry took a cautious step forwards, sitting slowly in front of the Espada, kneeling awkwardly on the hard floor. He was still unsettled, uncertain, unsure. Had his father's soul been denied Konsō? Had he been devoured by a Hollow, or become a Hollow on his own? There were so many questions.

“What... What happened that night?” He asked quietly.

Isshin sighed deeply a frown settling between bushy eyebrows, “My memories aren't so good now either, Ichigo. It's been a long time, years in Hueco Mundo can affect your mind.”

“Please try, Dad! I remember what happened before, and what happened after... But everything in between it's... It's the last part of my memory that I can't complete!” He didn't realise he'd started shouting until he fell silent, touching his lips in thought as he slumped, “I-I need to know...”

Another sigh, another smoke ring, another cigarette being lit, Isshin looked up at him from under his lashes, as if gauging what he could afford to say, “Alright. You were always a kind kid, the sort that would stop in the street to rescue a bee from a spider web; or that would carrying all the shopping bags even if they were way too heavy for you. So, when that night you saw a stranger being soaked through by the rain you offered them somewhere to clean up. You had no idea you'd just invited Sōsuke Aizen into our home. You just wanted to help.”

“I remember.” He nodded once, “Mum sounded so angry when she told me to get away from him, I was so confused, I was worried he'd get sick from the rain.”

“He had sensed your reiatsu, even as a child it was immense. Your mother and I had so many talks, worried about how best to hide you in case Soul Society came knocking, before we knew it you were ten and growing stronger every year.” Isshin blew out a long trail, “He intended to make experiments of the entire family, I have no doubt. But you surprised him, jumped in front of Masaki to protect her. You always said you'd do anything to keep her safe. She was your whole world.”

Looking down at his hands, Ichigo felt his eyes stinging, the briefest flash of wavy hair and happy coffee coloured eyes choked him, “She was perfect. In every way. I always wanted to protect her. When the twins came along... That extended to them as well.”

“Ichigo.” Isshin's voice lost all humour, all joy, his expression deadly serious, “Aizen used the Hōgyoku, wanting to find a way to create the perfect hybrid, the perfect creation of a higher being. He sought us out because of our natural gift, our naturally strong reiatsu.”

“Because of our nobility, right?”

“Ah, you know your true heritage as well? We never told you as a child that you were nobility. Kūkaku, Ganju and Kaien were just relatives from out of town.” He rubbed his forehead, “All nobles are naturally gifted with deeper reserves of reiatsu. It's just one of the many perks, I guess. But it makes us better test subjects for people with desires like Aizen, we can take more punishment.”

He shuddered at the thought of Aizen thinking about them as laboratory rats to use and dispose of at will, he couldn't believe he'd never realised it before, “Do you think it would have happened even if I hadn't invited him in?”

“Of course it would have.” His response was immediate, “You've been in close contact with the man, you know as well as I do that he gets what he wants, no matter what. He isn't the sort of person to take no for an answer. He'd have entered the house with or without permission. It wasn't your fault.”

He felt his guilt lessen a little, it was hard to believe how much he'd needed to hear his father tell him that he wasn't to blame, “What happened next?”

“He used the Hōgyoku, its power struck you when you put yourself between him and Masaki. You hit the floor like a corpse, we feared the worst... Feared you had been killed. But... The truth was far worse.” Another cigarette was lit, the older Kurosaki looked drained, stressed almost, “You started writhing, thrashing, having a fit of some kind. You were struggling to breathe, you sounded like you were in so much pain. I rolled you over to try and clear your airway and... That's when I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Ichigo's voice was barely above a whisper.

“The eyes of a Hollow, staring back at me.” Isshin hung his head, letting out a quivering breath, “Your reiatsu exploded, more powerful than before, you started screaming, your body was being crushed by your own power. And then... And then... White foam was leaking from your eyes and nose and mouth, encasing your face. You weren't you anymore. You weren't my son. You weren't even a proper Hollow, there was no Hollow hole in your chest, yet there was no Soul Chain either.”

“I knew that my Hollow was created that night but I had no idea that I had... Turned into that form...” He rubbed his chin, wondering why Shiro had never mentioned it.

The Espada lifted his gaze, looking across at the strawberry haired male with an almost pitying expression, “Oh, Ichigo... My son... You have no idea, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Despite mine and Masaki's attempts to bring you back, to call out to the Human side of you, it was no good. The Hollow side was far too strong, too superior in every way. You were a child, how could you be expected to overcome such reckless hate?” Isshin hesitated for a long moment, “When Aizen called, you answered.”

“Called? What do you mean, called?” He swallowed thickly.

“He was the creator of your Hollow, he was the only one with any power over it. So when he ordered you to attack... You did.”

“Attack?” Ichigo repeated, his blood turning cold, “Attack what?”

“Ichigo...”

“Oh! Oh my God!” He cried out as everything clicked into place, his breaths shorten to sharp bursts as he clutched his chest tightly, “N-No... No it can't be... It... It can't be! It... No... _Please_...”

He lurched to his feet suddenly, staggering away from the man as bile rose in his throat, he barely made it behind one of the vast columns before throwing up, his entire body quaking with violent trembles so strong they hurt. His heart was being torn in two. Clasping a hand over his mouth, he tried to silence the scream that was bubbling to the surface, but the wail broke free between his fingers, echoing like a howl throughout the hall.

His head was suddenly so quiet he felt like he'd been trapped inside a fantasy of solidarity and emptiness. It was so silent, so still and so soundless that he thought he might go mad. All the voices, all the singing, it was gone in a heartbeat. He stared blankly, his eyes welling up and spilling over as warm tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping off his chin and onto the floor in front of him.

“ _Why did you never tell me?! Why did you hide it from me?! Why... Why would you keep that to yourself... All these years!”_ His thoughts were a jargon in the empty space of his mind, _“Is this why my memories and my emotions disappeared?! Did you take them from me?! Did you keep them locked away to save your own skin?! Answer me! Shiro fucking answer me!”_

The pain was unimaginable, but the anger... He was seething. His face reddening with rage as he dug his nails into the stone wall, not feeling it crumble under his grasp.

“ _Answer me you coward!”_ He hissed internally.

Never before had he felt such searing, deep seated hatred beating through every vein, every nerve, every muscle and bone in his body. The very fibres of his being seethed with it. Tendrils of widespread, churning, quivering, molten hot hate.

“Get out.” Ichigo breathed, smacking himself hard around the face, repeating the action with every following syllable, “Get out. Get out! Get out! Get! OUT!”

With a gasp he felt the tearing effect of his Hollow pulling free, and he instantly heard heavy breathing behind him; he turned slowly, so slowly he thought time might stop as he came face to face with his albino counterpart.

“Aibou!” Shiro looked startled, gold and black eyes wide with what looked like fear, “Aibou please listen to me!”

“NO!” He screamed, “You don't get to call me that! I am _not_ your partner!”

Ichigo's teeth were clenched, flashed as his lips curled back in a menacing snarl, fists curled at his sides as he glowered across at the Hollow. Finally chestnut revealed itself now they were apart, but there was nothing warm about it. His reiatsu was lashing out, dense and heavy and all piling down on the albino.

“A-Aibou... Please... Hear me out...” Shiro was gasping, panting under the weight that was creeping across the room, legs shaking, he slid down the wall, if possible he would have paled further.

“Is it true?” He growled out, standing stock still.

The Hollow glanced to his right, swallowing thickly as he saw the impassive expression on Isshin's face, hesitation and fear making it hard to retain his usual mocking mannerisms, his eyes flicked back to Ichigo's, “Yes... It's true.”

“Why? What happened that night? Tell me!” Ichigo demanded, shoulders shaking as he tried not to weep again, trying to maintain his rage, blinding himself to every other emotion that could have threatened to overwhelm him in that moment.

“I... I was a fledgling... Takin' everythin' in for the first time. The sights, the smells, the reiatsu, it was confusing and I was lost... It wasn't right, I wasn't right... It was like watchin' though a screen... Through eyes that weren't mine.” Shiro's hands were clasped tightly together, “I wanted more... I wanted to see, and smell and feel... So I pushed my way out. It was painful, like crawlin' through a hole that was too small. I was free. Breathin' in the air, the smell of Masaki's clothes as she leaned over me, hugged me. But _that_ voice. Callin' to me from across the room. Aizen-sama.” Shiro barely dared to lift his gaze, but when he did he was met with nothing but ice cold fury, “Aibou... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... He ordered me to attack... I couldn't... I couldn't say no...”

“So you butchered my family?!” Ichigo roared, taking a few steps towards the albino before stopping again, “You tore them apart! You mutilated them! Karin and Yuzu... They were _six years old_!”

“I couldn't control it! The hunger was beyond me! I didn't want it to happen but I couldn't do anythin'!” He knew his protests were falling on deaf ears, “Afterwards... I fell asleep... I took yer memories of it... I thought I was protectin' ya! I never meant to steal yer emotions too... But I couldn't give 'em back without hurtin' ya more!”

Closing the distance between them, Ichigo snatched a hand out, wrapping his fingers around the Hollow's throat as he hoisted him to his feet, pinning him in place, noses touching, “You know... I'd almost be tempted to forgive you... To understand... But there's something I realised...”

“W-What?” He asked, biting his tongue as he tried not to react to the discomfort of his oxygen being cut off.

Ichigo tilted his head slightly, eyes like narrow slits, “The blackouts. Those little moments over the years that are like blank spots. Like waking up in Aizen's bed with no memory of getting there. Or losing control when I assassinated Division Six's Third Seat. Or killing the sick fucks I met in Fugai. None of that was me. Not really. That was all _you_. Sneaking in, taking over, using me.”

“I-I... No, it wasn't like that...” The albino spluttered, “I swear! It wasn't like that, Aibou!”

“No, of course it wasn't.” He hissed, snorting at him in disgust, “Nothing ever is with you.”

Shiro looked incredibly panicked as the hand around his throat tightened, his pale cheeks gaining a flush of pink as he began to choke in earnest, feet kicking weakly against the stone pillar he was trapped against, his hands raising shakily to try and free himself, “A-Ai... Aibou...”

The urge was there to snap his neck and be done with it, but his attention was momentarily drawn away by the sight of his dad, the Espada, still sat there just watching their conversation. A small frown touched his face as he observed the older Kurosaki, tickles of disorientation touching around the edges of his anger riddled mind, fresh questions popping up only to be quashed with answers that were too obvious.

“There's one thing you didn't tell me, Goat-Face.” He muttered, frown deepening.

“What's that?” Isshin looked surprised at being addressed after so long sitting on the sidelines.

“You were a Shinigami. When he...” Ichigo took a breath, “When _we_ killed you... You should have faded into nothingness. So how did you end up here, as a Hollow? As an Espada? Why are you using the name Aaroniero Arruruerie instead of Isshin Kurosaki?”

The Espada grew incredibly still, his face an enigma as he seemed to consider the question, “Ah shit... Why did you have to be so perceptive?”

Ichigo tensed, “So, are you gonna answer me or do I have to guess?”

The older man got to his feet slowly, hands in his pockets, “That fate would have been all well and good, had there not been a Hollow waiting nearby to devour the powerful reiatsu the two of you released. It was over too quickly, the Hollow evolved and took on the attributes of those he had consumed. Masaki, Karin, Yuzu... Isshin...”

Ichigo released Shiro without warning, ignoring the grunt of pain he heard from the albino, “I see. And, tell me... Are you the Hollow that devoured them? Or another Hollow that devoured that one? Because I know... I think I always knew... You're not my dad.”

“Smart boy.” Came the reply, a smirk coming into play on the man's face. It wasn't an expression that suited him, it maliciously tugged at the few good memories Ichigo was getting back, the goofy grins, the laughter, the warmth.

“So, what was this? A stalling tactic? Keep me in one place? Stop me progressing? Hopefully get me to destroy my Hollow, leaving me weakened? Was that the plan?” The strawberry asked, voice cracking at the pain he felt sweeping through him, the realisation that he hadn't been reunited with his father at all, just a cheap imitation.

“Not exactly.” The Hollow with Isshin's face shrugged offhandedly, “Aizen-sama ordered the Espada to refrain from coming into contact with you. But I couldn't seem to help myself. Maybe the essence of your family was tugging at me to come and find you.”

There was a peculiar feeling that rose up and washed away all the anger and pain he'd felt, it was a numbness. An empty chill. It wasn't peace, it wasn't calm, it was something else. But for the first time since setting foot in Hueco Mundo he felt like he was in control.

“So, just to confirm things,” he said softly, “I killed my family while my Hollow was in control of my body, and then you swooped in and killed their soul forms, feasting on them like chunks of prime steak. Am I missing anything?”

“No, no that just about covers it.” The Espada laughed nonchalantly.

“Okay... Okay that's good. I'm glad I understand at last.” He glanced around the building for a long moment, letting out a sudden sharp laugh, “And... Shiro's quite strong... Otherwise Aizen wouldn't have cared to keep us alive this long. And you, you probably want to eat him to increase your own power, so you can rise in the ranks of the Espada... Right?”

“Oh, well I mean I hadn't given it that much thought,” The fake father waved a hand dismissively before a hungry, greedy expression befell him, “But if you don't want him anymore... Given what he did... I'd be happy to take him off your hands.”

“Aibou?” Shiro's voice was quiet, disbelieving as he staggered to his feet, eyes wide, “Aibou... You don't want that... Right? Aibou?”

Ichigo chuckled again, the sound dying on his lips as he looked down at the pristine white version of himself, tipping his head to one side as he saw the terror in those golden globes before he turned his back on the creature and walked away, picking up Zangetsu from his resting place on the floor, “Be my guest.”

Eyes scanning the room again, Ichigo finally noticed the small glimmering specs buried in the ceiling. If his instincts were right, they were cameras. It made sense that there would be security, Aizen had always been and would always be, a control freak. Someone who needed to see everything, down to the last inch.

He could almost feel chocolate eyes on him, at every angle, watching and analysing and enjoying his torment. Every slant, every hidden nook, every corner of the shadowy palace belonging to the Noveno Espada, Aizen would be seeing everything.

He heard Shiro release a pained cry, and he closed his eyes. He wanted to hate him. He wanted to kill him. Or have someone else do it for him. The Hollow had done nothing but bring him pain and misery from the moment he was created. Murdering his family, afflicting his emotions and memories, almost killing Byakuya in Fugai...

But there had been good times too, moments of comradery and maybe even friendship. Working together on Sôkyoku Hill to protect Rukia, learning to compromise with each other, killing Yammy, trying to protect Byakuya in Rukongai, leaving that orange flower in the memorial garden.

If Shiro was a curse, then so be it. He was _his_ curse. If Shiro was a monster, then so be it. He was _his_ monster. If Shiro was the instrument of his destruction... So be it. He could endure the burden. He could endure the judgement he'd receive from others. So be it. All of it.

Ichigo allowed Zangetsu to slide through his fingers, grasping the bandage wrapped around the hilt, he lifted his arm and began spinning the blade, mimicking what he'd seen Shiro do before. The blade increased in speed, becoming little more than a blur.

Letting out a single breath, he swung the huge sword upwards and watched as the darkened hell hole was illuminated with brilliant light from the outside world, lumps of ragged rock falling from the tattered ceiling.

“Yo, Aaroniero Arruruerie, Noveno Espada,” he turned slowly on the spot, eyes narrowed as he glared at the Hollow who'd dared steal his father's face, “Hands off _my_ Hollow.”


	43. Power To Strive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's encounter with the Noveno Espada comes to a dramatic head as at long last he unlocks part of himself that has been desired by many, for so long.

Aaroniero released an cold-blooded shriek, flinging his body away from Shiro as his back was blasted with sunlight. Ichigo watched the Espada flee into the shadows and stalked towards his Hollow, the albino had an ugly looking bite mark on his shoulder but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“Pull yourself together. We're fighting an Espada now.” The strawberry held his hand out.

“For a minute there... I thought ya were gonna let him eat me.” Shiro grabbed his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, “Does this mean-”

“It means nothing.” Ichigo silenced him with a sharp glare, “But I'm not stupid enough to think I can kill him without help.”

The albino Hollow showed an uncharacteristic scowl and folded his arms as he glared towards the shadows where Aaroniero was currently hiding, “I know ya hate me right now, Aibou, but I can honestly say I reckon we both hate _him_ more.”

“Oh, and how did you work that one out?” He muttered, but followed his line of sight.

“Because...” The monochromatic side of his soul reached out and touched the hilt of Zangetsu, “... I killed ya family, but _he_ stopped 'em restin' in peace.”

He was reluctant to agree, but in his heart he knew he was right. Together, they'd butchered the rest of the Kurosaki family – his body, Shiro's mind. But Aaroniero... Aaroniero was responsible for them never reaching Soul Society. He couldn't help but wonder if Aizen had known about the Hollow lingering nearby that night. Aizen had vehemently argued that he hadn't killed the Kurosaki family, and technically that was true. But he certainly hadn't tried to prevent it either.

“I despise you almost as much as I despise myself right now,” he growled, sucking in a breath, “I don't want to admit it but you're right. He needs to die. It's gonna take all of us though.”

“All of us?” Shiro repeated.

“You... Me... And Zangetsu.” He reached out as he spoke and snagged his fingers in Shiro's white hair, yanking the Hollow closer until their foreheads were pressed together, “Don't think I'll forget what I've learned here today. When this is over, when Byakuya's safe... We're gonna have a long chat.”

There was something in those golden eyes, something Ichigo couldn't place. He decided it didn't matter, at least not at the moment, and pulled Shiro closer, they merged without issue and almost immediately Ichigo watched as his vision became tinted by gold. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination but... Shiro felt stronger.

“Getsuga Tenshou!” Ichigo barked, arching his blade towards the ceiling, he watched as the swirl of energy made contact, cracking the stone and blasting through in an instant, dousing them in brilliantly warm sunlight that left him blind for a split second.

He added multiple cuts and slices to the building, bringing the ceiling down around them until almost every inch of the palace was quenched with light. He saw Aaroniero Sonido from sunspot to sunspot, trying to find a shaded area. Trying to stay out of the light.

“Imagine building a fake ceiling with a fake sun and a fake daylight... When one of your Espada needs darkness to use their powers.” He smirked, “Aizen didn't think that one through did he?”

The real Espada had no Human head to speak of, but instead bore a large, cylindrical glass capsule filled with red wine-like liquid, two small Hollow skulls suspended within its confined. The Gothic tattoo of the number nine was visible on both faces.

“Nice to meet you, face to face, so to speak.” He couldn't resist mocking the Espada as he finally stopped moving, “Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to kill you.”

“Arrogant Shinigami.” The deep voice came from the top head and sounded almost scathing.

“Stupid child.” The high pitched one came from the lower head, sounding exasperated.

“Let's put that to the test and see how you feel when you're eating sand along side your friend, Yammy.” He grinned in an almost feral way, a glimmering reflection of Shiro's soul realigning with his own.

Ichigo danced across the room, his every movement so fluid and precise that it became all the more evident who had trained him, each blow used the exact amount of strength required to make it damning, each sweep, each slash, each swing was like a practised movement of a complex waltz. His face was clear of all emotion barring one. Determination. That grin never faded, even when he received cuts and gashes to his own body.

Blood splashed the floors and walls, a mingled presence of both beings as they hot footed it across the devastated arena. Speed increasing, the pair found themselves parrying blows in a swift formula of Sonido and Shunpo, clashing in violent arrays of sparks and ringing steel.

They seemed relatively well matched, exchanging blows at an alarming rate and healing them due to their Hollow high speed regeneration. Deep gouges became shallow cuts, stemming the tide of blood to a minimum and allowing them to trade more blows, more injuries. It was messy. It was cold. It was survival.

Ichigo could feel Shiro's ice cold grasp tingling along his spine, allowing him to use more reiatsu and greater speed. It was little more than a tickle, enough to give him what he needed to fight on par with the Noveno without triggering his normal transformation.

The Espada was using a replica of Isshin's unreleased Zanpakutō, but slowly it was cracking. Creaking. Bending. Breaking. When it snapped under the weight of one of Ichigo's lashes, the pair stared at each other, breath taken away with the surprise of the passing moment. Seeing it as a chance to finish things, Ichigo drew his blade back, thrusting it towards the greed infested creature with a stubborn accuracy.

“Devour Glotonería!” Both voices screeched in tandem, white glove being yanked free from the left hand, revealing an ugly mass of deformed brown tentacles with a gaping maw at the centre.

The explosion of cerise reiatsu was thick and heavy, throwing Ichigo backwards into the wall as he watched the horrific birth of a thousand stubby purple tentacles, large red eyes and disgustingly wet mouths complete with grinding teeth.

He thought he'd be sick at the sight of the bubbling, writhing mass, being reminded fleetingly of an octopus or some other invertebrate. Ichigo's gaze rose to the sight of Aaroniero seated in the midst of purple ocean, manic laughter rippling from inside the tank that functioned as his head.

“So... This is an Espada's release form...” Ichigo tilted his head to one side, straightening himself out and shaking off the ache in his spine, “You're... Really fucking ugly.”

“I have gained the powers of over thirty three thousand Hollows, I am the only Gillian-class Espada because I possess the ability to evolve everlasting. Within my belly I have the reiatsu of your mother, your father, your sisters and all of them were so deliciously powerful in their own right,” the baritone voice was smug, followed by the soprano, “What can you do against the combined power of that many beings?”

Rocking on his heels as he considered it, Ichigo found himself mildly impressed, “Good question.” He sighed, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Then you will be crushed!”

The gigantic purple mass began moving forwards at an alarming rate, washing over the debris like it was nothing. Ichigo wasn't sure he could beat the Noveno without giving Shiro control, but that was the last thing he wanted to do in the middle of Las Noches. It wasn't an option. But dying wasn't an option either.

“ _Ichigo.”_

Body stiffening at the familiar gruff voice that was neither his own nor Shiro's, he felt a smile touch his lips, _“Old man! It's been a while.”_

“ _I thought for a while you could no longer hear me, amidst the chaos of this world.”_ Zangetsu's voice had a grounding effect, washing away his anxiety.

“ _Chaos? You mean the voices?”_ Ichigo watched as Aaroniero seemed to freeze as the world ground to a halt around him, he looked around, feeling Zangetsu's hand on his shoulder despite not being able to see him.

“ _The voices, and the terrible rain. This Inner World began to flood when you realised the truth of your past. I tried to reach you, but could not. I feared I was too late. I am glad that was not the case. You are not alone, Ichigo. You are facing a powerful enemy, but they only get stronger after him. It is time.”_

The strawberry frowned faintly, _“Time?”_

“ _The enemy is one, and you are one. Cast off your fear. Look forward! Go forward! Never stand still. Retreat and you will age. Hesitate and you will die. Now go!”_

Sucking in a deep breath as the world seemed to speed back up, a swamp of blue energy engulfed his body, eyes widening as the gold receded and gave way to warm chestnut brown. This was him. All him. His soul. His being. His Zanpakutō.

He lifted Zangetsu, pointing the large blade towards the approaching Espada, left hand coming to rest on his right forearm as his reiatsu rocketed skywards, power vibrating through his very core to every corner of his body. His heart soared, pain and anger and grief fading in the wake of something far more.

“BAN-” He heard the sound of horror escaping unified voices, “-KAI!”

Swirling power enveloped him whole, tearing at his body and restructuring as it saw fit, shihakusho changing to form a billowing black coat that fluttering around his ankles and grew tight around his arms, only to flare again the wrist, he noted the crimson lining. The giant, body sized blade of Zangetsu compressed rapidly, tightening and drawing inwards, pressing every ounce of his power until his eyes fell upon the elegant black katana clasped between his fingers. The soft chinking sound of a short length chain was harsh upon his ears, but felt oddly fitting.

Slashing forwards, Ichigo cut through the uproar of dust created by his transformation and shot forwards, Shunpo lending itself to him far easier and far faster than in the past, the world was a mere blur around him as he dove towards Aaroniero's prone form. Recoiling, the blob-like creature sank backwards, half crawling up the wall to try and escape the oncoming attack, finding a few inches of shadow to burrow into, molten flesh began oozing from the cylindrical tank.

Ichigo released a guttural roar as he watched the Noveno Espada take on Masaki's face in a last ditch attempt to halt the movement of his blade. He felt his enemy's sword slash across his ribs as he drew close, but he didn't falter. Ebony blade plunging through Masaki's skull with a sickening crunch. Flesh and hair bubbled and peeled away, showing the glass containing Aaroniero's skulls. Zangetsu was buried in the glass between them.

“Your fate was sealed the moment you told me what you'd done to my family's Souls.” He breathed, pulling his sword free, the tank shattered in an instant, splashing the wall and floor as Glotonería bubbled over into a wave of sickly green liquid that sloshed through the ruined Espada's private palace, the crumpled body of Aaroniero hitting the floor as the two Hollow heads rolled towards Ichigo's feet.

He stared down at the skulls for a long moment, letting out a long breath as he suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. He sat down against the wall, on a small pile of rubble near the Espada's corpse and ran a hand down his face.

“Bankai, huh?” Ichigo examined the sleek black blade affectionately, “Thanks Old Man.”

“He always said ya were an impatient bastard.” Shiro was sat beside him suddenly, mimicking his posture.

“Well he's not wrong. But when I was training to get Bankai before, I was doing it for the wrong reasons. I was doing it because Aizen wanted me to be strong, and then I was doing it because Soul Society wanted me to be strong. I never did it because I wanted it. I misused Zangetsu a lot, I guess this means he forgives me.” He sighed.

“Mm. Maybe.” The albino picked at his shihakusho restlessly, “What about me? Where... Where do we go from here?”

Ichigo sighed deeply again, looking at his Hollow, “I can't just forget everything that's been said and done... But... I think in my heart I knew. I always knew. I always knew something drastic must have happened in my past to strip me of my memories, and when my memories started coming back I think... I realised the truth, I just hid from it. I didn't want to face up to it.”

Shiro looked at his feet restlessly, “I wanted to tell ya, so many times... But I didn't wanna... I didn't wanna cause ya more pain. Ya lost so much that night... I thought I was doin' the right thing... I thought I was keepin' ya safe... Once I'd taken yer memories, and realised I'd taken yer feelin's too I knew I couldn't give 'em back without... Hurtin' ya even more...”

“I know.” The strawberry whispered, closing his eyes as he sucked in a shaky breath, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have threatened to let him eat you.”

“I get it, it's fine.” Shiro chuckled weakly, “I'd probably wanna kill me too if I was where ya are right now.”

“I-I don't want to kill you.” Chestnut eyes met gold ones, “We're in this together now. What happened that night was your power and my body. It was both of us, together. Just like every moment since that night. If we fall apart we don't stand a chance.”

The Hollow looked startled, “Ya... What... Forgive me?”

Eyebrows raising as he snorted humourlessly, Ichigo nodded, “I guess I do. It's not like I can hate you for following the orders Aizen gave you... Did that for long enough myself after all.”

“Thanks... I think.”

Ichigo stood up and grabbed one of the whining skulls from the floor, watching as it twitched in his grasp, “This bastard though... Can't forgive him. Like you said, he stole their chance of going to Soul Society.”

“I ain't a stranger to greed but he's somethin' else. Lowlife.” Shiro picked the other skull up and peered at it curiously.

Looking at his Hollow with very mild amusement, he bit his lip and made a decision, “Let's finish him off together.”

The mania began to return to Shiro's expression, his grin widened to show pearly teeth as he clenched the skull tightly in his fist, crushing it slowly. Ichigo mimicked his action, wincing as his skull began releasing an inhuman screech of pain. With dual cracks and crunches, silence fell around them, the skulls turning to dust.

“Let's go save yer future husband, eh?” Shiro grinned, holding out his hand to his orange haired counterpart, “Can't stand ya bein' all mopey for a second longer.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Ichigo smiled, accepting the offered hand in his own, “We both know you love him just as much as I do.”

“Mm...” He pulled a face but then laughed, “He's alright.”

Ichigo watched as Shiro disappeared from sight. He let out a small breath before he doubled over as an inanely loud, unhinged cackle escaped his lips. He covered his mouth with his hand and glared at nothing in particular.

“ _ **Sorry, sorry, Hueco Mundo fucks with me a bit.”**_

“I know, I know.” He smiled faintly as he shoved the great doors of the palace open and stepped back out onto the bridge, “So, we've killed two Espada now. I guess that's gonna put a bit of a target on our back. Maybe we should try and find some of the others before heading deeper into Las Noches, last time I felt anything the Espada were on the move.”

“ _ **Sounds like a good plan, hang on... Lemme just... God yer senses are shit, lemme...”**_

A small shudder ran through him as he felt the Pesquisa activate again, he closed his eyes and let Shiro's senses guide him. His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he detected the glowing flames of his friends all in close proximity of each other, three burning fires belonging to the Espada were with them. Renji seemed weak, injured. Chad also seemed slightly battered.

“Fuck... FUCK!” He snapped, opening his eyes, “We're on our own.”

Without giving it a second thought, Ichigo vaulted over the bridge and fell towards the sands below, his landing was solid and made his teeth chatter but he immediately stood and began walking. If the Espada were on the move, he had to keep mobile, had to keep going.


	44. Through The Camera Lens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Around the same time as Ichigo encounters Aaroniero, Byakuya is left alone in the laboratory due to an unscheduled Espada meeting. That is until an unexpected guest comes to inform him that Aizen has requested his presence in the meeting as well.

Byakuya was alone in the laboratory, pacing in a rare display of agitation as he folded his arms across his chest and rubbed his chin. Starrk, Harribel and Szayel had received urgent summons for an Espada meeting nearly an hour ago and had not returned since.

There was no doubt in his mind what the meeting was about, there was no mistaking the low rumbles and echoed explosions he could hear in the distance. There was a war raging inside Las Noches. He had felt Ichigo's reiatsu the moment he'd entered the huge palace, and it had taken his breath away. Joy, relief, concern and worry. It had all flooded over him at once.

If he knew anything about the way Aizen worked, and he believed he knew at least a little, his rescuers would have been forced to split up not long after breaking in. There was no way the former Taichou would run the risk of letting them stay together. Divide and conquer. Simple war tactics.

His focus remained upon the prominent reiatsu of his sister, his Fukutaichou and his fiancé. It wasn't that he was uncaring towards Ichigo's Human and Quincy friends but... He could live his life without them. The loss of those closer however, would ruin him.

Rukia seemed to have been holding her own in her battles, he could feel pride and power churning inside her. She wasn't the shaky student he had adopted into his family anymore, she was powerful; beautiful and determined. She had grown so much and he had barely realised it. He had sensed her win her fight, and made silent vow that if he did ever see Seireitei again he would relinquish the orders preventing Ukitake giving Rukia the seated position she so deserved. He had been blind to her true potential, blinded by fear of letting Hisana down, blinded by fear of losing another person he dared to hold dear.

Feeling Renji unleash his Bankai had felt reminiscent of seeing it inside Ichigo's Inner World. His Fukutaichou had grown strong and confident. He was proud of him, but he could feel him struggling against his foe. Byakuya was glad he'd taken the time to apologise to Renji, he was glad the man had forgiven him. While they were polar opposites he found he now regarded his Fukutaichou as more than a subordinate, he was a friend as well. A loud mouthed, obnoxious, no shit taking friend. A breath of fresh air. He had been blind to his good nature and pure Soul, blinded by tradition and lingering prejudice.

And Ichigo. He had been able to feel his lover's conflict with an Arrancar around the same time that Rukia and Renji had begun battling too. He knew Ichigo had emerged victorious but... The darkness bubbling away within his reiatsu was terrifying. Even from so far away he could almost see the trembling turmoil of Shiro struggling against the instincts of Hueco Mundo. He feared for his fiancé, he feared how long Ichigo could continue without submitting to the addictive feeling of power. It was Ichigo's true nature that he had always seen, eyes wide open, not blinded like he had been towards others. He had always seen the fiery man's growth, latent talent and turmoil.

Sighing, Byakuya scowled at the floor, sucking in a breath and tugged experimentally at the reiatsu suppressant cuffs around his wrists. Starrk had given him something of an upgrade, instead of the tight and chaffing thickness of shackles, the Primera had replaced them with thin bangles, allowing the skin around his wrists to heal and soften again. He was grateful for it, but he still despised the feeling of weakness that continued to swell inside of him at the repression of his powers.

“Yo, Kuchiki.”

Spinning on the spot at the sound of the gruff voice, Byakuya found himself met with the sight of bright blue hair and eyes to match. Grimmjow was leaning against the door frame, arms folded lazily over his chest, ankles crossed leisurely, feral grin untameable.

“Grimmjow.” He had to subdue a growl, “Shouldn't you be in the meeting with the other Espada?”

“I was.” The Arrancar shrugged and strolled forwards, hands shoving deeply into his pockets as he glanced around the laboratory, “Tch, I hate comin' down here. I always feel like Szayel might try and swallow me whole, fuck knows how you've survived at all.”

Raising an eyebrow, Byakuya lifted his chin defiantly, “It hasn't been without some close calls, I'm sure. Why are you here, Grimmjow?”

Snorting, the blue haired man came to a stop in front of him, eyes boring down as if gauging him, “I guess it helps havin' the Tres and Primera guardin' you.”

“I would hardly call it guarding.” He muttered.

A momentary flash of something crossed the Sexta's features before he scowled and looked away, “Tsk, they haven't told you.”

“Told me what?” The raven haired Shinigami asked immediately.

Grimmjow seemed to suck in a breath and suddenly his grin was back, “Nothin', it doesn't matter. I'm here to collect you, Kuchiki. Seems that Aizen wants you to join the meetin'.”

Tensing, Byakuya released a hiss as he was abruptly manhandled by the Sexta Espada, strongly muscled arms coiling around his body in a not entirely innocent manner, with large hands far too low down his stomach for him to be comfortable, “Unhand me you dog, I am capable of walking!”

“Dog? Don't insult me, Kuchiki.” His breath was hot on the noble's ear and neck, “It's kinda unfair really, Szayel keepin' you all to himself in here. I mean you ain't perfect, but you're pretty as Shinigami go. I'm sure half the Arrancar in this place would fight for a roll or two with you.”

Eyes widening, he felt his momentary panic turn to anger, “If your hand moves even an inch lower, Jaegerjaques, I _will_ sever it from your body.”

Laughing lowly against the shell of his ear, the blue haired Espada tightened his grip, “Temptin'. I'd love to see you in a proper fight, Sôkyoku wasn't nearly enough to satisfy my interest, you were practically incapable of doing anythin' with Kurosaki around.”

Half snarling, Byakuya slammed his head back, stars blazing in his vision from the contact with the Espada's insanely strong Hierro. Despite that he heard a satisfying hiss of pain from the man and the grip around his waist momentarily lessened in response to the, hopefully, broken nose, “Believe me, the moment I'm free I'll make you regret not having your interests satisfied previously.”

Grimmjow wiped the trickle of blood from his face, eyes narrowed for half a second before they widened gleefully, arms tightening around the smaller built male as he sank his teeth into his shoulder, leaving an angry purple mark in his wake.

Refusing to allow the sharp cry of pain to escape the back of his throat at the sudden pain of teeth breaking the surface of his skin, Byakuya scowled venomously as he vowed to murder the swine who dared mark him.

The world seemed to bend around them as Grimmjow moved in a blast of Sonido, the cracking sound of white noise was almost deafening, and it was only thanks to his own superior Shunpo that he was just about able to keep track of their movements and the directions they took.

The noble watched as they approached a large set of white doors, swallowing inconspicuously as they groaned open of their own accord, admitting them entrance to the room beyond. Grimmjow instantly seemed to slow to a walk, the clacking of his sandals on the floor the only sound to be heard as they descended the plain white staircase that led into the room.

Vision adjusting to the meagre lighting of the meeting room, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a moment. His inquisitiveness was greeted by the sight of seven Espada peering back at him. Their gazes seemed to seep into his soul and create a chilly settlement inside.

Szayel caught his attention, familiar whiskey eyes were narrowed in stark jealousy, most likely due to how closely Grimmjow was holding him. It didn't provide much comfort at all. He was becoming desperately hopeful that his days in the laboratory were numbered, Szayel's madness seemed to worsen every day he remained.

Next Byakuya saw an Espada he didn't recognise. A black man with numerous spikes running across his scalp, his yellow cat eyes were a little discourteous in their quick examination of his being. If his knowledge of the Espada was to be trusted, the man was the Séptima Espada.

Grimmjow's seat was empty between the Séptima and Nnoitra. The gangly man was stretched out with his feet on the table and his hands resting behind his head. His single grey eye roamed Byakuya's face before flicking away with a snort.

Ulquiorra's stare froze him more than any other, emerald eyes had never left his face for even a second since he had entered the room. It was as if the Cuatro was transfixed. His expression was as empty as ever, but there was something in his eyes that put Byakuya on edge. And he was certain that for the briefest of moments, Grimmjow's hold on him tightened.

Harribel's gaze was warm, comforting almost. But she didn't dare make eye contact for too long, most likely for fear of upsetting the brunet Shinigami sat at the head of the table. He found Starrk to be the same, though he felt some comfort in knowing they were both there.

Between the Primera and Tres was the Segunda Espada. A large, rotund man with white hair and a bone crown on his head. He reeked of arrogance, and hadn't looked at Byakuya at all, disinterest rolling off him like an odour.

Byakuya hadn't seen Aizen for sometime, something he had been grateful for. But now, as he saw the traitor turn in his seat, chocolate eyes meeting his own steel ones, he felt a frigidity far greater than that of the Espada touch him.

“You have my thanks for retrieving our guest, Grimmjow. Please return to your seat.” Aizen's voice was gentle, but there was no room for argument.

The nobleman was almost surprised when Grimmjow immediately released him, Byakuya almost staggered under the weighty oppression of powerful reiatsu in the room. His pride would never allow him to hit the floor in front of so many strong opponents, he managed to remain standing and even forced out a glower that Ichigo would have been proud of.

“Aaroniero still not here?” Grimmjow asked as he sat down, glancing at the two empty chairs at the end of the table.

“It isn't like him to miss a meetin'.” Gin said from the far corner of the room, arms folded, “Want me to find him, Aizen Taichou?”

Byakuya hadn't even noticed Gin, or Tōsen who was stood beside the fox, until he'd spoken. Both men cut imposing figures in their white shihakusho, yet besides that very little seemed to have changed about either men. Gin still seemed progressively sarcastic and teasing, sly and decisive while Tōsen remained stoic and unmoved by anything barring his sense of justice.

“Leave him.” Came the stern response, “If he does not arrive with an excuse to pardon his tardiness, I shall have Ulquiorra deal with his punishment.”

“It would be a pleasure, Aizen-sama.” The emotionless dark haired Espada bowed his head.

“Now, with that dealt with. Let us continue, my dear Espada.” Aizen sat back in his seat, apparently ignoring Byakuya's presence entirely for the time being, “Our intruders have been most eloquent in their attack upon our home. Privaron Espada Dordoni has been slain, as has Fracción Yylfordt Granz, Números Luppi Antenor, and Exequias Rudbornn. Privaron Mosqueda was fatally wounded, but has not yet passed away, though the medical staff assure me he will not last long.”

“How have they managed to fight so valiantly against our forces without casualties on their own side?” Starrk asked, his question seemed to be more for Byakuya's benefit, an effective way of getting the Taichou the information he likely craved as well.

“It has not been without injury. One of their number was gravely wounded in their fight, we are currently unsure if they will recover.” Aizen's gaze flicked to his Primera, “Renji Abarai was gored by Yylfordt's Resurrecciōn form. Despite killing Granz with his Bankai, he collapsed after their conflict and was picked up by our Séptima, Zommari.”

Chest tightening at the news, Byakuya stared at the dark skinned Espada, hoping to hear something of Renji's condition from him, however the man remained silent, apparently having nothing to add. Swallowing harshly, he balled his hand into a fist to prevent the obvious shake being seen, not desiring to show weakness while trapped in the viper's den. He couldn't believe Renji would have been struck down by anyone, he was too stubborn. But if it was true, at least he had taken down a bastard Arrancar with him.

“Do you wish to avenge your brother, Szayel?” The brunet asked without skipping a beat.

“No.” The pink haired scientist's reply was immediate, “He was a means to an end. Perhaps Grimmjow should take better care of his toys, however.”

“Go fuck yourself, Granz.” The blue haired man spat, slammed a fist down on the tabletop as he glowered across the table at him.

“I'd much prefer you to do it for me.” Szayel smirked.

“Settle down.” Tōsen's voice was far from warm as he silenced the pair.

“What of the other intruders?” Harribel asked softly, eyes closed as she listened to the bickering of two of the lesser Espada.

“Rukia Kuchiki defeated Luppi; Sado Yasutora defeated Mosqueda; Uryū and Orihime Ishida defeated Rudbornn.” Came the answer, “And Ichigo Kurosaki defeated Privaron Dordoni.”

Byakuya's gaze snapped up at the mention of his fiancé, eyes narrowing slightly at the purring tone of Aizen's voice as he spoke, white hot anger coursed through him but he forced it down. He'd be no use to anyone starting a fight in a room full of Aizen's strongest warriors with nothing more than his wits and a single fist to guide him.

“Since then, I have had Kuchiki, Yasutora and the two Ishida's rounded up along with Abarai. My thanks for your swift work on that, Ulquiorra; Nnoitra; Grimmjow; Zommari. I trust they did not put up too much of a fight?”

“Nothing that became unmanageable, Aizen-sama.” Ulquiorra replied on their behalf, as the more senior of those mentioned.

“And Ichigo?” Byakuya couldn't hold back the question, taking a step forward despite the multiple sets of eyes that turned to look at him in surprise.

Aizen let out a breath, rising from his seat slowly. The action seemed to silence the entire room, and he approached the noble. One perfect eyebrow raised as he reached out and tangled a few locks of raven hair between his fingers, the brunet stared at Byakuya unflinchingly, “I am not so foolish as to send my Espada after him, Byakuya, I value their lives at least a _little_ more than that.”

“I never insinuated that you were stupid, Aizen.” He replied firmly, refusing to break eye contact even though he was sure his blood was turning to ice, “But from the sounds of things, you've allowed him to continue wandering freely while the rest of his comrades have been collected. I know his ability to sense reiatsu is abysmal, but even he will realise what you've done.”

“And what better way to draw him closer to the heart of Las Noches? His determination was strong while only you were in danger, but the thought of his friends also becoming prisoners... His fear and panic will make him weak, and once he is weak he will-”

The brunet's reply was cut short by a sudden eruption of reiatsu. The energy tainted the air around them with a deeply dark sense of foreboding, the walls shook under the magnitude. There were startled sounds from the Espada.

Byakuya continued to stare at Aizen, the brunet hadn't even flinched at the sudden swell of power, but they both seemed to surrender momentarily to the thunderbolt of astonishment that struck them both, “Ichigo.”

His reiatsu was unfathomably unfamiliar despite being recognizable at its' very core. Reverberating; thrumming; drumming; pulsing; expanding. It had always been strong, always been soul shaking, but now it had completed morphed into something new. Something heavier. Something bigger.

There was pain. Deep set crippling pain that seemed to echo the agony of his very heart, yet it was tempered by an almost nostalgic sense of calm that ruffled across the entire room. Ichigo was fighting. Byakuya could tell immediately, it was the only reason the turbulence of his soul would quieten so abruptly.

The pungent feeling of two powers clashing followed, bringing some of the Espada to their feet in surprise. Apparently they expected orders to go and intervene, each looking confused when no such orders came.

Aizen smirked faintly, his shock finally wearing away, “After all this time... After all that training... And now he masters it. I wonder if he will _ever_ cease to surprise us.”

Byakuya knew exactly what he was talking about. There was only one explanation for such wild and wanton reiatsu spiralling from Ichigo in such a carefree and cardinal way. He wanted to feel proud at the knowledge that Ichigo had finally summoned his long awaited Bankai. But all he could feel was concern. What kind of enemy had he encountered to force Zangetsu into surrendering the secret of his Bankai?

Steel eyes travelled around the room, coming to rest on the two empty chairs at the far end of the table. He suddenly understood. Two chairs, for two missing Espada. The Décimo who had been slain in Karakura town, and the Noveno who had never arrived at the meeting. Ichigo... Was fighting an Espada!

“Impossible!” A sudden shout from Barragan roused Byakuya from his musing, “What manner of creature is free in Las Noches, that is capable of taking down an Espada?”

Aizen tilted his head, momentarily humming in thought, “Confirmation?”

“Aaroniero is dead, Aizen-sama.” Szayel announced, one hand touching his ear, “His Cognition Synchronization has just met an abrupt end.”

Aizen sucked in a silent breath, fingers finally leaving Byakuya's hair as he returned to his seat and activated a holographic screen in the centre of the table. The nobleman peered towards it, immediately recognising Ichigo by his wild hair, though he had no recollection of the Espada he was fighting.

“ _BANKAI!”_

Ichigo's voice cut through the deathly silence of the room, all eyes on the guttural envelope of power that sealed the strawberry from view until the refined black katana cut through the plumes of smoke and revealed his body once more.

The sight of Aaroniero's Resurrecciōn form recoiling in horror was both as disgusting as it was amusing, the writhing masses of stubby purple tentacles flurrying around in an effort to escape the tattered remains of his ruined palace. But there was no where to run, no where to hide. Ichigo was fast. _So fast_. Byakuya lost sight of him for a moment when the young Shinigami shot from one side of the room to the other in a blast of Shunpo. He seemed to dart around with all the elegance of a prowling cat.

Byakuya released a small choked sound as he watched Aaroniero take on the form of Ichigo's mother, he could only assume the Espada was a shape-shifter of some form or another, but it brought dread to the put of his belly. Did Ichigo know the secret of his past? Did Ichigo finally know what had happened on the night Shiro had been created? It would make sense, it would explain the deep set agony at the very centre of his reiatsu.

He was impressed when he saw that the false form of his mother didn't stop Ichigo's attack, the sickening sound of metal crunching through glass and bone rang through the room as the Noveno Espada was cut down.

The nobleman watched as Aizen sat back, apparently considering the events he had just witnessed in silence. There were quiet rumblings from the Espada, mostly sounding like disbelief that one of their number had been cut down, cut down by a single Shinigami.

“ _Come out, Shiro.”_ Ichigo's voice was tired as he sat down amidst the chaos.

“Shiro?” Aizen said suddenly, a small frown touching his face before he twisted in his seat and looked at Byakuya, “Ichigo named his Hollow?”

“No.” He said stiffly, “Shiro named himself.”

“Truly?” Szayel asked suddenly, “Normally we Hollows only gain our own names once we become Adjuchas.”

“It is true.” Byakuya nodded once to the scientist, “The first time I met him, he introduced himself as Shiro. He even stated that it was what he had decided to call himself.

“Fascinating.” The Octavo breathed.

“ _I can't just forget everything that's been said and done... But... I think in my heart I knew. I always knew. I always knew something drastic must have happened in my past to strip me of my memories, and when my memories started coming back I think... I realised the truth, I just hid from it. I didn't want to face up to it.”_ Ichigo's voice sounded so matter-of-fact despite the heavy hunch of his shoulders.

Byakuya felt his heart sink, Ichigo truly did know the truth about his past, the entirety of it. He felt a great swell of guilt rise up, he shouldn't have been such a coward when they'd woken in Division Four, he should have told him the truth. At least then he wouldn't have been alone... He would have had support... Maybe it would have spared him some pain, or... Maybe it would have caused more.

He watched as the pair finished off Aaroniero together, cooperating better than he had ever pictured them doing. Although the gurgle of manic laughter Ichigo released when they merged back together was a little concerning. How much was Shiro struggling to keep his insanity under control in Hueco Mundo?

“Is it normal for these... Inner Hollows to be so cooperative?” Harribel asked.

“No, normally a battle of dominance would have to take place to create such a bond.” Aizen's eyes flicked to Byakuya again, “Has that happened?”

Byakuya raised his eyebrows, a smug answer tumbling from him before he could contain himself, “Oh, you are deferring to me again? Goodness Aizen, it must be such a strain not to know what has been going on in his life since you ceased being part of it.”

If Aizen was angry by his attitude it didn't show, or rather he didn't have time to show it as Byakuya received a jaw breaking slap around the face. His ears were ringing as he looked around, seeing Ulquiorra standing in front of him with his hand still raised, he could taste blood in his mouth as well as the scorch of his skin that was undoubtedly already reddening. He hadn't even seen the man move!

“Return to your seat, Ulquiorra.” Aizen's voice was calm, but low, “Our guest was merely making an observation, there's no need to exact punishment for it.

“Temper, temper.” Byakuya wasn't sure where his courage was coming from, but he refused to break eye contact with the Cuatro until the man had returned to his seat.

“I feel I can admit that not knowing how Ichigo has been progressing, has been something of a downside to leaving Soul Society.” The brunet Shinigami fixed the Kuchiki heir with a cool look, “Did he have a battle for dominance with... Shiro?”

“No.” He said simply, “They're working together because they both want to.”

“I see. Thank you for your insight.”

Swallowing as Aizen's attention finally left him again, Byakuya noticed how some of the Espada were looking at the holographic image of his fiancé. Barbaric expressions of desire were prevalent on Grimmjow and Nnoitra's faces, according to Harribel the pair of them were the most blood thirsty Hollows inside and outside of Las Noches, he was beginning to believe they would rival even Kenpachi's desire for battle. What concerned him more was Ulquiorra. Those usually apathetic eyes were watching Ichigo with something resembling fascination, as well as deep set loathing. Pure unadulterated hatred.

Apparently blind to the look on his Cuatro's face, Aizen rose to his feet and glanced in the direction of the passive male, “I want you to go and observe his movements, keep an eye on him and report back if he starts to get close to the main palace. Under no circumstances are you to engage with him unless he senses you first. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Aizen-sama.” The dark haired male stood and bowed swiftly before sweeping out of the room, emerald eyes fixing Byakuya with a strange look as he passed, one which chilled the noble's insides and made them burn at the same time. He didn't trust the Cuatro, not one bit.

“In the mean time... Grimmjow,” chocolate eyes turned to azure ones, “You will be taking over the care of our guest.”

“What?” Szayel's voice was almost whiny, not that he'd ever allow himself the discourtesy of going that far, “But Byakuya-san has been in my care the longest so far, I have kept him in good health after Ulquiorra's mistreatment. You trust this brute over me?”

The force of Aizen's reiatsu was as sure as it was bruising, the room shaking with it and drawing beads of sweat even as far up the food chain as Starrk. While Byakuya, who had none of his own reiatsu to act as a buffer was planted firmly on his hands and knees, gasping for breath under the magnanimous threat and riveting promise of pain. He was almost certain he was going to be sick, much to his humiliation, if the pressure didn't release soon.

“My dear Szayel, you appear to be under the impression that I require your permission to decide who takes care of our guest.” His voice barely seemed to contain the flare of moodiness drawn out by the pink haired Espada's protests.

Grimmjow forced himself to his feet despite the torrent of power pressing down on them all and strode towards Byakuya meaningfully, snatching one lithe wrist in his hand and pulling him up straight, “We'll be in my private quarters if anyone needs us.” Was all he said before he half dragged the noble from the room.

Casting a fleeting look back towards the table, Byakuya was surprised to see that Starrk and Harribel didn't look concerned by the turn of events. If anything, they both seemed to offer a subtle nod that everything was fine.

As far as Byakuya was concerned, things were far from fine.


	45. Unlikely Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behind the closed door of the Sexta Espada's quarters, Byakuya becomes properly acquainted with Grimmjow Jaegerjaques and together, they find themselves unravelling the reason for Ulquiorra's recent strange behaviour.

The slam of the door closing and being locked was far from comforting as Byakuya was hurled into the room, the force of which made him fall. Landing hard on his hands and knees, the noble growled as he turned onto his back and glared up at his new keeper. Grimmjow was leaning back against the door, eyes closed as he released a pent up breath, he seemed to relax, a lot of the tension from his strongly muscled shoulders seeping away in the privacy of his own room.

“Man I hate those meetin's.” Came a gruff snort as blue eyes snapped open and appraised the disgruntled pile of nobility on his floor.

“Mandatory?” Byakuya asked with a scowl as he picked himself up, brushing down the material of his white shihakusho.

“What do you think?” Grimmjow's spat response maintained all of its usual lustre, but his eyes were tired, “Of course they are.”

Standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, the noble glanced around, he was surprised to find that there was a distinct lack of white adornment in the room, replaced instead by shades of forest green and brown. The only thing that bore the usual attire of Las Noches was the two of them, in their uniforms.

His eyes were slowly drawn by the sight of fur disappearing into an adjacent room and he raised a questioning eyebrow in the direction of the Espada who was following after it.

“I told ya in Szayel's lab... I ain't a dog.” The blue haired male smirked widely, gesturing for him to follow.

Byakuya hesitated for a moment but strode across the room, peeking around the door frame curiously, his eyes widened for a moment and he almost snorted, lifting a hand quickly to cover his mouth as it quirked into a surprised smile at the sight that greeted him.

There must have been six furry bodies in the room, various sizes and colours curled up in different spots. It took a moment for it to click, and then, when he watched Grimmjow crouch and tickle a specific spot behind the ears of one of the balls a soft face popped up, and the feline stretched widely. Byakuya's mouth almost fell open.

“Cats?” He breathed, his gaze flicking back to Grimmjow, “You're a cat?”

“Catch on quick don't you.” The sarcastic response was lessened by undertones of affection as the man made his rounds, petting each feline in turn.

It was only when the pure white cat that was sat in the very middle of the room began padding towards one of the many food dishes that the noble noticed the distinctive Hollow hole going through its spine to its belly.

Curiosity sparking, he dared to edge further into the room, sinking to the floor as one of the others, a pale grey one with amber eyes, approached him. He held a hand out and watched as it was sniffed and then licked, apparently confirming its own thoughts the grey creature then trotted away to get water.

“I had no idea that Hollows could take on the forms of animals like this.” He murmured, “I thought that kind of transformation happened to Adjuchas.”

“Well, that's half right.” Shrugging, the Espada glanced over at him, “Hueco Mundo ain't dead, you know? There's life here, even if it's different to Soul Society, or the World of the Living. Smaller Hollows, they can survive off the reishi in the air. These guys are a bit bigger, so I feed 'em souls from lesser Hollows. They can't go out to hunt, Nnoitra or Ulquiorra would likely entertain ideas of hurtin' 'em to get back at me.”

“I get the feeling you are not the big happy family Aizen pretends you are.” Byakuya leaned back against the wall, despite Grimmjow apparently being willing to share something important with him, their spat from the laboratory hadn't been forgotten, he wouldn't be showing any weak spots to the man.

The Sexta almost laughed, shaking his head as he ran a hand down his face, “You're jokin' right? If it wasn't for those Shinigami bastards lingerin' around every corner we'd have torn each other apart by now. This many powerful Hollow's ain't meant to be cooped up together.”

“I can believe it.” He muttered, “I recall the carnage you caused in Division Eleven the day Aizen finally made his move.”

“Kenpachi was a good fight.” It was a simple statement, but the man entertained a grim smile, “But... I ain't the worst around here.”

“Indeed, I believe Nnoitra would give you a run for your money.”

“Nnoitra?” Grimmjow scoffed, “He's violent and vicious yeah but...”

“But what?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow, he remembered how the blue haired Arrancar had clammed up in the laboratory earlier.

Rubbing his chin the man puffed out a breath, “... Ulquiorra... Ulquiorra's the worst of us. You probably wouldn't believe it from how he normally behaves but he's got a cruel streak like nothin' I've ever seen.”

“Oh I'd be willing to believe it after his treatment towards me when he was my... Custodian.” The noble tutted, reaching up to rub his cheek as he recalled the strike from the Cuatro only a short while ago.

“You don't know the half of it.” The Sexta hesitated and seemed to consider his next words with extreme care, “Ulquiorra marks his prey. His victims. Makes sure everyone knows they belong to him, that way no one dares steal them from him.”

“Marks them? What... Like a brand?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Somethin' like that except... It's with his reiatsu.” Grimmjow stared at him, eyes narrowing, “Harribel and Starrk... They made you promise them somethin' right? They asked you to stay as far away from Ulquiorra as possible... And not to be around Szayel alone.”

“How did you...Wait...” Byakuya paused, “It... It was _you_? _You_ are the reason Aizen agreed to let Szayel keep me in the laboratory, _you_ are the reason Harribel and Starrk started visiting me. Why?”

Seeming to tense for a moment, the Sexta sighed, “Ulquiorra and I have a long... Ugly history. I know what he's like. That day, when I saw you in the hallway with him on your way to see Aizen... I knew he was up to his old tricks again. I told you, he marks his prey with his reiatsu. He has a habit of doing it in a similar place to where his Hollow hole is.”

The raven haired Shinigami watched as Grimmjow gestured to the area just beneath the mid-point of his clavicles. He immediately recalled Ulquiorra touching him in that exact spot just before taking him to see Aizen. The bastard had marked him? Branded him as his prey?

“Szayel noticed immediately, just like I did. He contacted me while you were cleaning yourself up in his bathroom. I knew Ulquiorra would kill you if you stayed in his 'care' much longer, so I requested an audience with Aizen... Convinced him to let you stick with Szayel for a while.” Grimmjow rubbed his forehead, “Barragan wouldn't do anythin' but I know Harribel and Starrk have morals so I went to them after and told them too... They agreed to start makin' visits to the lab. Figured it would put Ulquiorra off comin' after you.”

“I thought...” He shook his head in disbelief, “I thought they were visiting because of Szayel! I started noticing these little... Marks... I thought he was experimenting on me in my sleep!”

The Sexta laughed loudly at that, “I know he's deranged but... Szayel was tryin' to help in his own sick way. Those nicks and cuts... They're Szayel's way of markin' you. He was basically tryin' to put Ulquiorra off as well.”

Byakuya let out a long breath and rubbed his face with his hands, “Then... Why did Harribel and Starrk also ask me not to remain alone in Szayel's company?”

“Well, he grew attached. You must have seen his face when we walked into the meetin' together. How he reacted when Aizen passed you into my care.” He shrugged, “You're up to speed on everythin' now. While you're stayin' here I'll work on removing Ulquiorra's reiatsu from you, it'll be uncomfortable but I'm sure you'd prefer not to bare his mark.”

“Can I assume that... Today in the laboratory, when you bit me-”

“Yeah I was markin' you as well.” Grimmjow rolled his shoulders restlessly, “Sorry about the gropes. Can never be sure if Ulquiorra's watchin', wanted it to be believable. He's got almost unlimited access to the cameras across the palace.”

Rubbing his shoulder, he could still feel the indents of teeth in his skin, but somehow the sting was gone now he knew the real reason for the mark, “You have my gratitude. For informing me of what has really been going on, and... For everything else. But I have to ask... Why would you go so far for me? A Shinigami?”

“Don't go gettin' soft on me or anythin'... It's a simple case that... I know what Ulquiorra's like.” There was a gruffness to Grimmjow's tone that hadn't been there before, a far away look in his eyes that made him seem much more human, “Pretty crazy how he's been behavin' recently anyway... We were all under orders not to harm you beyond the rough stuff it took to get you here. That's why Ulquiorra was punished for lettin' you get in such a state.”

“He doesn't seem like the sort of person to disobey a direct order.”

“Normally he wouldn't.” The Sexta fell silent for a long moment, a frown forming on his face, “Hmph. Actually, thinkin' back... He's done nothin' but disobey Aizen's orders ever since he was sent to the World of the Living to assassinate you.”

Blinking, Byakuya cast his mind back, he knew what Grimmjow was referring to of course, he would never forget the first time he'd allowed himself to trust Ichigo. The attack on the pair of them by Ulquiorra and Yammy wasn't something he would block out either.

“You were relaying information back to the Espada the entire time you were in Division Three, weren't you?” He asked, hugging one of his knees up to his chest.

“Of course.” The blue haired Espada stilled suddenly, his expression changing from its usual aggressive smirk to something resembling repugnance, “But that's...”

“What is it?” The noble asked, immediately tensing at the radical difference.

“Aaroniero had this ability to connect to the minds of the Espada, it was one of his duties to allow constant communication between us all. I used it perpetually in Soul Society to relay any updates of Aizen's plans.”

“What of it?” Steel eyes narrowed.

Grimmjow hesitated, scowl deepening as he looked towards his house guest, “I met Kurosaki... A few times in fact. The Espada all knew what he looked like. Ulquiorra... _Knew_ what he looked like.”

Byakuya was already two steps ahead by the time he finished speaking, his face paling somewhat, “So, when he was sent to assassinate me in Karakura town and attacked Ichigo instead... It wasn't an accident at all. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly _who_ he was attacking. He was trying to kill him on purpose! But... Why? Why would he betray a direct order like that?”

“I've never known him be like that.” Grimmjow rubbed his temples as if trying to ward off a headache, “He's an ass kisser at the best of times...”

“When I was snatched from Soul Society,” the noble began, “Ulquiorra used Ichigo to force me to surrender. He was choking the life out of him... He said he'd kill him unless I surrendered.”

Azure eyes flashed to steel ones and the Espada was on his feet, throwing a disgruntled cat halfway across the room, “Aizen would never have authorised that. Getting Kurosaki here was his goal. That's _why_ you were taken to begin with! What was that bastard thinkin'?”

Byakuya rose to his feet as well, taking a cautious step towards the blue haired man, “Does Aizen know the full story? Has someone been covering for Ulquiorra?”

“The only person capable of covering for Ulquiorra is Szayel. Ulquiorra's got this... Ability to replay events that have recently happened. It shows his feelin's too. But, Szayel wouldn't knowingly help him with this... So I'm bettin' he's been stealin' from the laboratory. Maybe something to allow him to limit what his ability shows. Or at the very least limit what he... What he feels...”

The way Grimmjow trailed off made Byakuya's stomach sink lower if possible. Initially, he had believed the Espada to be nothing more than brutal strength and blood thirsty, but it appeared there was keen intelligence hidden beneath the surface, an acute ability to assess information and calculate answers.

“Fuck... That can't be right.” The man himself broke the noble's revere, “I think... I think Ulquiorra is _jealous_ of Kurosaki. The attention Aizen gives him, the lengths he's willin' to go to in order to bring him back to our side, the care, the power he gave him... He's fuckin' jealous!”

“He'd go as far as to kill someone through jealousy?” Byakuya scoffed in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Wars have been fought over far less.” Grimmjow's sharp eyes caught him off guard, “Aizen's posted him to watch Kurosaki's progress... With no idea he's sent an assassin instead of a guard.”

“He's going to try again.” The noble realised with a sickening lurch of his belly, “We have to do something! We have to stop him!”

“Stop him? _Stop him_?! Are you insane?!” There was a fresh edge to the Arrancar's voice, something Byakuya couldn't identify, “There is _nothing_ I can do against him. He's too... Too strong.”

“Then I'll go!” He snapped.

Grimmjow grabbed him without warning, his grip bone breaking, “ _Listen_ to me. He will break you in half for fun and won't think twice about it. He will kill you.”

“I will not leave Ichigo to face that monster alone!” Byakuya tried to pull away, hissing when the Espada's grasp only tightened.

“You can't stop him, Kuchiki.” Azure eyes were intense, almost pleading, “He will kill you both.”

Biting his tongue, the nobleman let out a sharp breath, “Then we go to someone capable of stopping him.”

Grimmjow groaned quietly, “You mean Aizen.”

Byakuya looked at him, the chill in his own gaze putting Grimmjow's to shame, “You can silence that venom on your tongue, I don't desire to have Aizen anywhere near Ichigo, let alone to ask that man for help.” Dropping his gaze to the bangles on his wrists he released a rare snarl, “But you are correct, I can't do anything to protect him while I'm like this.”

The Sexta Espada huffed in frustration, his grasp on the Shinigami's arms lessening, “Fine. But I'm only doin' it because I wanna get one over on Ulquiorra.”

“Any reason is satisfactory at the moment.” He muttered, quietening the squawk of surprise he had almost released as he was dragged into a stomach flipping Sonido.

He didn't trust Grimmjow. He could never trust someone that intent on destruction and the next time they could battle a powerful opponent, but at the very least he was intent on keeping Ichigo alive even if it was only for his own gain. The enemy of his enemy could be his friend. At least for the time being.

The King's Suite came into sight quicker than he'd expected, Grimmjow's quarters couldn't have been too far away. Byakuya panted as they came to a slow walk with almost no warning, he could feel the Sexta's tension rolling off him in waves.

He couldn't help himself, breaking free from the Arrancar's grasp he shoved the large doors open and stormed inside. He saw Aizen immediately, the brunet was seated at his desk, apparently going through paperwork though the moment the doors knocked against the walls chocolate eyes met steel.

“You can't just burst in like-” Grimmjow appeared behind him, freezing as he too came under Aizen's stare, “ _Shit_.”

“I assume there is a good reason for this, Grimmjow.” The brunet hadn't moved.

“Ichigo is in danger.” Byakuya said sharply, taking a step forwards as the Sexta tried to grab him, “I mean serious danger.”

“He is currently on the loose in Las Noches, what were you expecting?”

The nobleman hissed through his teeth as Aizen seemed to dismiss him, already returning his attention to the papers on his desk. Growling stubbornly as he stalked across the room, slamming his hands on the pale oak, Byakuya scowled defiantly.

“I'm not sure what you hope to achieve by coming in here, Byakuya, but I assure you I have only so much patience when it comes to your recent... Arrogance. Step out of line again and you will-”

“Aizen-sama,” Grimmjow seemed to muster himself, interrupting the brunet boldly as he came to kneel near the raven haired Shinigami, “Kuchiki is telling you the truth. Kurosaki... He's in danger. Ulquiorra... Ulquiorra is going to try to kill him.”

Aizen's brow twitched slightly, the only sign that he had heard the Sexta's words as his lips sealed in a tight line. Byakuya knew the man wasn't accustomed to being interrupted by anyone, it was a long running trait that had been prominent even when he'd been a member of the Goeti Thirteen.

Slowly sitting back, Aizen fixed them both with a stare, he seemed to appraise them perhaps judging them and then he finally spoke, “Tell me everything you know. Quickly.”

Byakuya shot a grateful look at Grimmjow as he stood and moved closer, he was sure it was only because of his support that Aizen was willing to listen. This wasn't a position he wanted to be in. Relying on Aizen at a time like this... Setting his pride aside to request the help of the man he despised so much. But this was about Ichigo now. And Ichigo was the only living creature connecting them both. The only person they both cared about. He didn't have a choice.

The nobleman stared at Aizen, barely hearing Grimmjow speak over the thundering blood rushing through his ears. His heart was pumping so fast, so hard. Desperately needing the brunet to believe them, to realise the danger Ichigo was in. The risk.

He felt his blood turn to ice in his veins as those dark eyes fixed on his own again, calculating; devious; manipulative. Something unspoken passed between them, Byakuya wasn't even certain what it was but Aizen rose to his feet, elegant as ever and yet there was the faintest change in his expression. It was microscopic, almost unnoticeable, but Byakuya saw it.

“Grimmjow, I've heard enough.” Aizen's voice was even, calm but his eyes never left the other Shinigami's, “Summon the Espada, immediately. Byakuya and I will go on ahead to assess the situation.”

“I...” The Sexta paused, blinking as he looked between the two men, “Of course.”

The Kuchiki heir heard the doors slam shut as the whirlwind of blue left the King's Suite in a similar hurry to how he'd arrived, “You believe us?”

“Regrettably.” Aizen lifted his head a little, “Something has been amiss with Ulquiorra's behaviour for sometime. His excuses have been believable, if a little careless... But I know my own work.”

“So I've heard before.” He hissed, recalling Ichigo having said something similar once, “If anything happens to him, Aizen, I swear I will end you.”

Moving around the desk silently, the brunet released the smallest of sighs as he pulled the reluctant noble into his arms, “While I am certain you would fail to even draw blood... I am confident you would die trying to avenge him.”

Byakuya's temper flared, his arm drew back and snapped forwards before either of them knew what had happened, the sound of the slap almost seemed to echo around the room. Breathing heavily through his nose, the nobleman couldn't deny the feeling of pride as he watched the smallest of cuts open across the brunet's cheek.

“Your intentional desire to underestimate those around you will be your downfall, Sōsuke Aizen.” He breathed.

One eyebrow raised, Aizen glanced down at him with narrowed eyes, “And your willing disregard for your own life will be yours, Byakuya Kuchiki.”

As Aizen swept him from the King's Suite in a Shunpo so swift it made his head spin, the nobleman felt a pang of discomfort at the momentarily realisation that when everything else was stripped away... They weren't so different.


	46. Just A Broken Wretched Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's struggles to remain in control of his Hollow powers come to a head amidst waning energy and fear for his lost friends, but all too soon he realises Shiro isn't the only Hollow to want him out of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Major Warning: Rape/Non-con scene in this chapter)

Ichigo held a hand up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. He felt like he'd been walking for hours. Time didn't seem to work the same way within Las Noches, maybe it was because of the never ending sunlight overhead but he couldn't sure how long had passed since defeating Aaroniero anymore. The overwhelming excitement at his victory, and the release of his Bankai had worn off.

The voices in his head had begun to quieten, he was grateful for the peace and quiet but his anxiety grew as he felt the swelling power of his Hollow. He could only assume Shiro's increasing strength was the reason he could no longer hear the siren call from the sands. It was like a great pressure building up from the base of his skull, pushing up to shove everything else aside. He felt like his head had become a balloon and Shiro was a fountain of water filling it until it burst.

It hurt. Not an agonising pain, it was a dull ache he couldn't get rid of. Annoying and persistent. It was exhausting, tiring, he felt his eyelids getting heavier with every passing minute.

He knew Shiro was doing his best to fight the need for dominance but... Ichigo wasn't sure how much longer the Hollow would succeed in combating that urge. He could feel Shiro, on a spiritual level now. He was all... War and conflict. Primal. The albino craved everything cardinal with a rabid hunger for blood and sex and pain and battle. He needed battle. Needed war. Needed skin on skin contact. Needed furious hatred entwined with breathtaking lust in a bloody display of dominance over another soul, or submission beneath someone stronger.

Letting out a hiss, Ichigo paused his wandering, allowing his eyes to roll across his surroundings with annoyance. He had no idea where he was going. There were so many buildings, all empty. He had expected to see another Arrancar, or even another Espada by now given the death of one of their own. But there had been no one. Nothing.

Was Las Noches so large that they hadn't realised a battle had been fought?

Shaking his head, he knew that couldn't be true. He'd seen Aizen's cameras, he knew his fight hadn't gone unnoticed. Perhaps this was just another test. To see how long he could cope before going utterly insane. Perhaps on the precipice of madness Aizen would appear to him as a balm to sooth the lunacy and the psychopathy, offering a hand of kindness to guide him back up into balance and serenity.

It was a frightening thought. But not as terrifying as the split second he questioned whether or not he would accept that offer.

Groaning, Ichigo stopped completely. Clicking his tongue against his teeth in frustration as he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't start giving in now. He couldn't start wondering what he would do when he finally came face to face with Aizen. It was obvious, wasn't it? Aizen had kidnapped Byakuya. Aizen had allowed him and Shiro to kill the Kurosaki family. He couldn't... He _wouldn't_ surrender to him.

But the strain of containing Shiro's madness was getting worse. Despite the Hollow trying his best, he could feel his resolve crumbling. He could hear his laughter echoing inside his head. He could feel Zangetsu's fear. The Old Man couldn't do anything to help, Shiro was stronger. And... Part of him, no matter how small, was tired of fighting.

His Pesquisa was no longer detecting the reiatsu of his friends, irrational fear prickling at his heart as he feared the worst. Reaching out, he rested a hand against one of the colossal red pillars he had begun to pass, hanging his head as he tried to steady the waves of fear riding through him. They weren't dead. He had no doubt that someone, _anyone_ , would have found him by now to taunt the fact if they had all been killed. Which meant that had been captured and were being contained somewhere with their reiatsu suppressed. They weren't dead.

Closing his eyes, Ichigo tried to muster some courage. He couldn't quite believe that he was falling apart in the middle of Las Noches when he should have been raging and breaking through every barrier to get to his loved ones. What was he doing? Why was he so tired? Why was it getting so hard... To open his eyes...

“ _Ichigo!”_

Zangetsu's bark in his head made him jolt, sucking in a gasp as the first thing he saw was a snow white hand resting on the red pillar. Jerking backwards, Ichigo's eyes widened as he stared down at his skin, his nails had turned black and the swirling white was spreading up his wrist. He felt himself tremble, breath stuttering as he let out a shout, punching the pillar with all his might as he raised his reiatsu in response.

Teeth clenched, scowl fixed he watched as tanned skin slowly fought back. He almost collapsed as his hand returned to normal, gasping for breath. He could feel Shiro's regret, his reluctance... He could feel his strength failing him.

Clenching his fingers into a fist, he swallowed hard. He couldn't afford to hang around any longer, he had to find Byakuya. He had to break him out of whatever prison he was in. And then they had to go and find their friends. It wasn't negotiable. It wasn't questionable. It was certain. It was decided.

He took one step forwards, eyes widening as a burst of pain erupted in the back of his head. For a moment he thought it was down to Shiro, but as his legs gave out beneath him and his body hit the sand he realised his Hollow was entirely innocent for a change. Ichigo's eyelids fluttered defiantly for a few seconds before they slipped shut, his fingers slackened around Zangetsu's hilt as he slipped into unconsciousness.

“ _ **Aibou?”**_

Shiro's voice was naggingly loud. Too close for comfort. Ichigo felt like he was swimming. Not entirely awake but also no longer entirely asleep. He opened his eyes, surprised to find himself in his Inner World instead of in Las Noches. He could see Shiro standing opposite him, the Hollow's expression was full of unusual panic and concern. He could see his pale lips moving but no sound was coming out, he could see a pungent black reiatsu crawling around the Hollow's legs, binding him, holding him back. Ichigo felt himself frown, eyes slipping shut again.

“ _ **Aibou?”**_

The voice was luridly close to him, making a shiver run down his spine. Soft puffs of breath rolled over his neck as warm lips grazed his skin, slick tongue dipping into the crevice of his collarbone. Fingertips ghosted his chest, dragging lower and slipping beneath his coat, tugging it open with little effort.

“ _ **Aibou.”**_

That nagging voice was more persistent. What did Shiro want, that he was determined to pester him while in the depths of sleep? By the Soul King he wished he was back in Soul Society with Byakuya, waking up in his bed to the touches and actions that were currently driving him wild, nails incessantly digging into the flesh surrounding his lithe hips.

“ _ **AIBOU!”**_

The strawberry was snapped from sleep by the pool of Hollow energy that swirled within his body, the feeling of Shiro forcibly taking control just long enough to make him open his eyes to the real world. To Las Noches. Gold pricked eyes canvassed by inky blackness widened dramatically as his startled gaze was met by angry emerald orbs.

Ichigo released a gasp of surprise, the feeling of Ulquiorra's nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood was alarming, more so when the breeze against his bare skin made him realise that his coat style shihakusho had been torn from his body, leaving him in nothing more or less than his hakama.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” He was rattled, hand flying out instinctively towards where he had left Zangetsu, his gaze snapping around when he failed to find the black and red hilt of his Zanpakutō, faltering as he saw it bound far from his reach, “Get off me!”

“I have tried to understand you.” Ulquiorra's voice was oddly strangled, not at all like his usual dispassionate timbre, a frown settling on his face as his nails dug deeper, feeling as sharp as talons, “Tried to understand the draw. The enticement. The interest. But I simply cannot grasp it.”

Ichigo released a throaty cry of pain, certain the Espada was clawing directly at his hip bones, “What are you... Talking... About?!” He exclaimed, hands flying downwards to grip the Espada's wrists, trying desperately to prise those fingers from his skin as he felt heated blood rolling down his sides.

“Aizen-sama.” The response was simple, apparently meant to explain everything, “He... _Cares_ for you, in ways he has never cared for any of his Espada. Had any of us betrayed him as you did, we would have been executed without question. And yet you remain alive, to continue being a thorn in his side. He would no more hurt you than himself. _Why?_ I do not understand. I have tried.”

Arching, the strawberry let out a strained breath, “Does it matter?!” He snapped, growling as the tang of metallic liquid hit his Hollow heightened senses, drawing Shiro's previous desires back to the forefront of his mind, “We have a lot of history, it's not exactly... Ngh, something I'm over the moon about either!”

Seemingly taking his words on board, Ulquiorra slowly sat back, remaining straddled over his body despite languidly withdrawing his fingers from the bone deep gouges he'd created. The usually apathetic Espada lifted his hands, blinking as he seemed to inhale the scent of Ichigo's blood, his tongue swiping out along one finger slowly, “How unexpected. I was under the impression that you were a Shinigami, with a Hollow's Soul lingering in your mind... And yet your blood smells and tastes like that of a Human. I caught a brief... Scent before, in Karakura town, but believed I was mistaken. Why would a Human interest Aizen-sama, after all?”

“I'm complicated.” Was all Ichigo said before he jerked his head forwards as hard as he could, smashing his forehead into Ulquiorra's nose.

Leaping to his feet as the Espada stumbled back, stunned by the force of the blow, Ichigo made a dash towards his Zanpakutō. Fingers spread wide as he came within a hair's breadth of snatching up the hilt, he released a choked cry as a blood stained hand coiled around his throat from behind, wrenching him backwards and throwing him at one of the nearby red pillars with force.

Letting out a cry of pain as he made contact with the impossibly hard rock, the sunset haired Shinigami's vision blurred as he slid back down onto the sand, landing on his hands and knees as his body threatened to give out on him. Eyes flicked upwards as a shadow fell over him and he spat blood as a foot crashed painfully hard into his side, flipping him onto his back; another kick struck his stomach, bending his body awkwardly. The foot came down a third time, and he felt several of his ribs break under the force, a shout escaping him.

He couldn't believe how much stronger Ulquiorra was compared to Yammy, and Aaroniero. He couldn't believe he had ever managed to injure this Espada at all, it really had been a fluke! Just how strong was Ulquiorra?!

“Complicated? Don't be ridiculous, you're nothing more than uneducated trash, like the rest of your rabble of _friends_.” Ulquiorra's voice was sharp, “A Human doesn't belong at Aizen-sama's side. A Human could never stand on par with the likes of us Espada. To think he wants _you_ leading _us_? As one of his generals? I will not allow it. I will show him just how weak you are, Ichigo Kurosaki. I will make sure he no longer desires your presence, and then I will obliterate you from my sight.”

Fingers tightened around his throat again and Ichigo found himself lifted off the sand, dangling in the air, a reminiscent flashback to Byakuya's kidnap. Digits tightened, crushing and strangling and choking. His hands flew upwards, desperately trying to prise freedom, trying to find even the smallest gap permit air back into his lungs.

“ _Shiro... Help me...”_

Silence.

Black spots were forming in his vision, unrelated to the darkness already swirling due to Shiro's presence, his mouth opening and closing urgently with the need to draw breath, to summon life giving oxygen and reishi into his body. Despair growing, he clawed violently, eyes rolling in his skull as his feet kicked listlessly against the body holding him.

Face suddenly pressed into the sand, Ichigo heaved a retching breath as the fingers around his throat disappeared, fisting a tight grasp in his locks of hair instead; his vision flitted in and out of focus as his mind adjusted to the close shave with death, fingers dipping into the fine grains beneath his body in confusion as saliva dripped from his lips.

A quivering jolt ran through him as he heard fabric tear as his hakama was ripped from his body, leaving him exposed and naked. His heart thundered and trembled as recollections of his first night in Fugai flashed before his eyes, the knowledge of exactly what was coming washing over him like a sickness bug, leaving him cold and rooted to the spot.

He realised with a putrid thought, that it hadn't been Shiro teasing him while he slept. His lecherous Hollow hadn't laid a finger on him. It had been Ulquiorra. The same touches were being applied now, yet they were harsher, harder, haughty and cruel.

The Espada's fingers tightened in Ichigo's hair, keeping him pinned securely in place as he leaned over him, teeth sinking distressingly deep into his shoulder, ripping through the skin and drawing blood. The sensation of canines rending their way into layers of muscle drew a reluctant screech from the Shinigami's lips, feeling his fingers tingling in response.

He writhed, trying urgently to squirm away from the dark haired Arrancar, recoiling as his free hand clenched tightly on his waist, preventing even the smallest of movements. Ichigo let out a howling combination of resentment and distress as he was caged like an animal, his fingers scraping through the sand, trying to find a grip on something tenable, something that could anchor him. But it was too soft. Too fine.

“ _SHIRO!”_

He couldn't understand why his albino counterpart had gone so quiet. All that promised debauchery and liberal desire silenced in a mingled moment of terror. Was... Was Ulquiorra that strong that even Shiro was afraid?

The feeling of the Espada forcing his way into his body was agonising, Ichigo was screaming out with the cramping discomfort, every movement brought a fresh spasm, a new soreness, a misery that cut deeper than any sword. He could feel Ulquiorra shivering above him, soft pants of breath undulating over his bare back as teeth finally tore free from his shoulder, the pace of the thrusts picking up, growing faster and more forceful. The soft snarls that were escaping were conjoined with the sensation of reiatsu being pushed into his body, forcibly ripping into his own as an added insult.

Squeezing his eyes shut as he refused to shed the tears that had built, the strawberry let out a final sharp cry of pain as the Espada pushed deep, Ulquiorra's climax washing over him with a wanton breath of sickly delight.

His body cringed, flinching as Ulquiorra pulled back abruptly. The sound of rustling material reaching Ichigo's ears and he felt his body quivering with an intolerable rage and self-disgust, panting harshly against the pain racking his body from head to toe, he dragged himself forwards, blazing eyes latched onto his Zanpakutō once again.

A hand fastened around his ankle and tore him back, worming a grunt from him as he bit down on his tongue, he threw up at the sudden ripple of pain that shot through his back, legs and belly. His vision blurring as unconsciousness threatened to swallow him whole. His breath hitching listlessly as the coldness of steel pinched his throat, unable to move without some part of him making contact with Ulquiorra, he shuddered as he felt black and white lips press against his ear as the blade bit into his skin.

“I do not know how you managed to injure me in the World of the Living, but it will not happen again.” Ulquiorra's voice was cutting deeper than his sword, “Aizen-sama deserves better than trash like you lapping at his ankles in hope of your next meal. I simply won't allow it.”

He could feel blood running down his throat, trickling between his pectoral muscles and splashing out onto the sand, his heart was thundering so harshly against his sternum he was sure it would break loose. A glance to the right showed him one of Ulquiorra's hands, tightly gripping the pale green hilt of his Zanpakutō, and a glance to his left showed the Espada's other hand pinching the end of the blade between his fingers, pulling it closer. His hands were still stained with dried and fresh blood from his assault, the way it seemed to sink into pale skin made Ichigo shiver.

A garbled mutter of desperation escaped Ichigo's lips, Ulquiorra's desire to kill him was tangent, the air was thick with it. He could almost see the sweeping ringlets of black malevolence weaving around them both, jagged and calamitous, edging closer like an offensive poison dripping through the sand.

This couldn't be the end, could it? He'd come so far... Fought so many battles... Tasted defeat and victory in equal measure. He'd never given a single thought to what might happen if he died before reaching Byakuya. Every time the idea came to him he had batted it aside with reckless abandon. He'd refused to acknowledge it as a possibility.

Was this how he was going to die? Pinned down like a caged beast, raped and brutalised by one of Aizen's monsters? Trapped... Alone... Frightened... That wasn't him. That wasn't what he'd fought for! That wasn't who he'd tried to become! He was better than that! Stronger than that!

Except... He wasn't. He was trapped, and he was alone and he was... Frightened. He was so frightened. He was sickened and disgusted and humiliated, embarrassed and... He felt very small. He felt dirty. His skin crawled with revulsion unlike anything he'd experienced before.

Facing up to Aizen's treatment of him had been on an entirely different level to this. He knew, even if his emotions and memories hadn't been intact, his 'relationship' with Aizen had been consensual. Willing. Wanted. But this... This wasn't... This was forced and... Wrong.

He could feel himself breaking. His willpower, his defiance, his strength. He could feel it all crumbling away. Without his determination, his resolve to fight... What was he? A scared little boy sitting in a sea of unfamiliar blood.

Ichigo was dying. The blade was cutting deeper with every breath. Ulquiorra's hate was a wave to be reckoned with. He was dying. And there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He watched as the inky swirl of black sclera peeled away, his gold tinted gaze turning chestnut, despair swallowing him whole.

As surprising as it was, as the blackness began to take him Ichigo could only think one thing, it wasn't what he'd expected to wonder about on the event of his death, but it was the only prominent thing screaming in his head at the time.

“ _Shiro... Where are you?”_


	47. Shadows Of Ichigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death seems unavoidable in the wake of Ulquiorra's attack, but as his life begins to fade Ichigo is greeted by an old friend. A friend who extends a hand of aid. A chance for survival. A chance for revenge. But is the cost for vengeance too high?

Frigid, glacial water doused him to his core, and he was forced to suck in a knee-jerk gasp as every inch of his body was enveloped by chilling seas, waters so deep he was sure he'd never see sunlight again as the cloudy depths took him. Ichigo thrashed, arms and legs flailing in an attempt to reach the surface, to break exterior of his blackened lake, but no matter how much effort he gave he couldn't seem to break free, couldn't seem to rise, couldn't seem to brush his finger tips against the rippling face of the water.

White arms bandaged him, holding him so incredibly close that he thought he might disappear. It was warm, a calming candlelight in the midst of the never ending darkness. Hushed whispers were only faintly warbled by the bubbles escaping soft lips. It was soothing. Welcoming. Homely. It made the pain, the humiliation, the shame fade into nothingness.

Daring to open his eyes, Ichigo released a startled sound as he found he could breathe with ease, frowning faintly as he looked up into gold and black eyes. They lacked all their usual hunger, their insanity, their chill. Instead he found blazing heat, scorching sunrises that seemed to set alight his soul and offered an ointment to everything.

“Yo, Aibou.” Shiro's voice was gentle, wholesome, the silvery undertones were more comforting than ever before.

“Am I dead?” He asked, watching distractedly as small air bubbles escaped between them.

“No.” A small shake of the head blustered locks of snowy white hair around them, “But we are dyin'.”

He expected to feel sad at his Hollow's words, but instead he found a deep seated rage beginning to burn. He had survived so many situations that had screamed for his death, escaped so many traps that had tried to cull his determination, broken free from chains that had tried to drag him so much deeper. Who was Ulquiorra to kill him? Who was Ulquiorra to exchange his purpose for weakness? Who was Ulquiorra to drag him to the deepest point of the ocean and leave him to drown?

“Where were you?” The accusing tone was accompanied by a scowl, “I needed you! Where were you?!”

Soft fingers brushed his cheek, pale lips turned downwards, “Trapped... Ya saw me briefly, that blackened reiatsu... It was Ulquiorra's. When he injured ya, he laced the wounds with his own reiatsu and it was like a barrier, preventin' me from movin'... Stoppin' me from breakin' free to help...”

Ichigo was startled to see tears rolling down the albino's cheeks, he could see sadness and remorse flooding his expression but there was anger too, deep seated rage that matched his own, “You saw everything, didn't you?”

“I was a prisoner... Watchin' through yer eyes.” Came the almost silent answer, “I'm sorry.”

Flinching almost, Ichigo clenched his teeth, his anger grew. How dare Ulquiorra try to tame _his_ Hollow. How dare Ulquiorra try to punish them both. Who did he think he was?

“Can I beat him?” The strawberry asked.

“No.” The answer was surprising, as was the anger it evoked within the Hollow's eyes.

“Can _we_ beat him?”

“... No.” The anger grew.

Staring up at the Hollow, Ichigo felt his gut churn. He didn't want this to be the end. He didn't want to die, naked and battered and humiliated face down in the Sands... In the belly of Aizen's palace. He wanted to fight! He wanted to win!

Ichigo's voice was hushed, “Can you?”

Shiro bowed his head, gently nuzzling into his King's neck affectionately, lacking all the usual lechery, “Yes. But only if...” He trailed off almost reluctantly.

“If what?” His question was immediate, flames burning brightly in the pits of chestnut orbs, determination was returning.

Lifting his hands slowly, Shiro framed Ichigo's face and brushed his thumbs beneath his eyes, a sad smile creeping across his face, “As long as ya remain the dominant soul I can't break free from his trap, he's too strong... I need ya to merge with me... I need ya... To become the submissive soul. Lingerin' here... We will be able to communicate, but... I won't need to listen to any orders ya give me... I will be in control. _Complete_ control.”

He thought about asking the most obvious question: would he ever regain dominance? But... He bit his tongue. It wasn't important anymore. They were both going to die... They'd both be gone and there would be no way back. No escapes, no retakes, no second chances. Byakuya would remain in Hueco Mundo. Rukia; Renji; Chad; Ishida and Orihime... Would remain in Hueco Mundo. Kaida and Hotaru would never see their parents again. They'd be orphans, because of him.

He sucked in a breath. Red hot, liquid fuelled vehemence rushed through his veins. This wasn't about Byakuya. It wasn't about his friends. This was about him. This was about his _pride_. His _honour_. His _survival_. He didn't want to die. _He didn't want to die!_

Ichigo lifted his arms, sliding them around his Hollow, fingers gripping the back of his snowy shihakusho tightly as his shoulders slackened and he allowed his body to become limp.

“Make it slow. Make it painful. Teach him the meaning of fear.”

Tilting his head to the side slightly as he observed the resolve return to those chestnut eyes, Shiro broke into a broad, far more familiar grin. Mania stretching as the promise of brutal and bloody violence passed between them. His eyes darkened, dangerous glints of rich savagery rose in place of soothing warmth.

“I will make him wish for somethin' as sweet as death.” The whisper was full of its usual hysteria, a vow that wouldn't be broken.

“Enjoy your fight.” Ichigo breathed, his voice growing fainter, the air bubbles that rumbled free seemed to choke him as the glow that had sustained him from his Hollow began to fade, surrendering to the bitter harshness of the billowing winter that ravaged the albino.

“This is _our_ fight.”

Almost laughing at that, Ichigo allowed the darkness to take him, feeling Shiro's grip tighten and pull him in. His first response was to struggle, to fight a way free, to deny it all. But as he closed his eyes, allowing the last few bubbles of breath to escape him, he let go. He let it all go.

For better, or for worse he gave himself away. Allowing the lunacy and the delirium to devour the bright spark of his soul. Surrendering to everything he had ever fought. There would be no holding back, no restraining himself, keeping back that ounce of power he was scared of showing. Shiro had no concept of mercy, no notion of restraint, no thought of holding back for the sake of those around him. He was raw, unbridled passion, burning like the heat of a thousand suns. He would burn anyone who got in his way without regret, without remorse. He was danger. He was darkness. He was a dagger in the side that couldn't be deflected. That was what they needed.

* * *

Aizen couldn't recall the last time he had used Shunpo as a matter of urgency rather than leisure, but as he darted through the halls of Las Noches with Byakuya Kuchiki clutched tightly in his arms he allowed swiftness to overtake every other sense of time. They broke out onto crisp white sand, the inner dome of the palace. The false sky above them beating down an impossible sun.

Grimmjow's words still burned in his ears, the weight of them, the truth of them. Had Grimmjow come to him alone he would have dismissed his concerns, passing them off as idle resentment. He knew all too well that Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had a chequered, violent past. But the look in Byakuya's eyes, the desperation, the pleading, the lack of telltale pride in place of an urgent need... It had convinced him.

To see the nobleman before him, afraid and panicked was resounding enough. But to know that the fear was not for himself, was not because of his situation... To know it was for Ichigo. The only person they both cared for. The only person to link them together. Byakuya Kuchiki... Had convinced him.

He had been blind. It infuriated him to admit it, so much so that he had very nearly crushed both of them on the spot. But there had been no time for that, no time to take his anger out on the two people who had connected dots which he had barely noticed. That was the only reason the Kuchiki heir was in his arms, that was the only reason he had sent Grimmjow to summon the Espada. He knew he was capable of stopping Ulquiorra alone, but he wanted his subordinates to witness what happened when one of them betrayed him.

Ulquiorra... His most loyal Espada.

How long had he been hiding his true feelings? His hatred towards Ichigo? His desire to rid the world of warm chestnut eyes and bright orange hair? How long had he been stealing from Szayel's supplies to limit the extent of his Solita Vista? It was a tempting thought, to punish Szayel for his carelessness. But by the time he had finished with the Cuatro, no Espada would ever dare step out of line again. Not one.

Aizen's body stiffened as he inhaled the scent of corruption that flowed so strongly through the air, a stifling depravity that seemingly knew no bounds. He altered his course, only slightly, and drove towards its epicentre. It was unlike Ulquiorra to be so blundering with his control of his reiatsu, the way it was spilling free was an offensive impregnation upon every Hollow that resided in the sandy abode. Undoubtedly, many weaker Hollows would have already perished from the pressure, the overwhelming weight of the Espada's might. Innocent lives striped by carelessness.

When had Ulquiorra delved so deeply into madness?

Skidding to a stop, chocolate eyes widened at the sight before him. Zangetsu had been cast aside, bound to prevent its use, the blade was fluctuating between Bankai and Shikai, a vision that brought a glimmer of apprehension to the forefront of his mind.

Zanpakutō only fluctuated like that when the death of its wielder was approaching.

Byakuya writhed suddenly in his arms, struggling for freedom as a strangled yell escaped his lips, resembling the name of the strawberry haired Shinigami they were both so fond of. Aizen followed his gaze, breath catching in his throat at the sight that had roused such a response from the usually impassive noble.

Ichigo was chest down in the sand, grains which had been dyed crimson, naked and bruised with little imagination required to work out why. Unmoving, silent and lacking the usual aggressive torrent of reiatsu that naturally escaped from him. Head yanked back, Murciélago was clearly cutting an ever deepening groove into the exposed throat of the unresponsive Shinigami.

Ulquiorra was straddled over his body, lithe form barely betraying the strength in those muscles as his hands gripped his blade all the tighter, pulling all the harder. An obvious determination to behead burning brightly within the Cuatro Espada. Ulquiorra seemed so entirely captivated in his depraved actions that he hadn't even noticed their arrival, back still turned towards them.

He felt his arms loosen and Byakuya was free, sprinting forwards with a carelessness he would never have expected. Aizen couldn't bring himself to reach out and snag him, he felt... Frozen... Locked in place... His heart was thundering in his chest in a way it never had before. What was this feeling? What was it? It couldn't be... No...

A flash of blue entered his peripherals as Grimmjow appeared and grabbed Byakuya, strong arms snatched him back, fighting with the unconstrained fury of the raging nobleman, “The other Espada... Are on their way.” The Sexta stated, eyes transfixed on the scene before them.

The sight of Byakuya elbowing Grimmjow in the face and tearing free from the Sexta's grasp brought the temptation to crush the Kuchiki heir, but something changed. Just one thing. A single moment that forced him to fist a hand in raven locks, yanking the overwrought Shinigami back towards his body, encasing him in an iron grasp again. He twisted on the spot, arching over his captive to buffer him from the abrupt exploding storm.

Ebony black reiatsu detonated from the motionless body in the sand, it was dense enough, heavy enough, powerful enough that it threw Ulquiorra aside, sending the smaller built man clean through one of the many red pillars in the area with a sickening, bone crunching crack.

The power seeping out across the area was enough to make even Aizen's breath catch in his throat, his heart fluttering briefly as he completely lost sight of Ichigo. He felt the nobleman in his arms slump against the pressure, sweat breaking out across his skin as he took on an ashen, sickly appearance; Aizen's eyes darted to the side to see Grimmjow, he was only just standing, a hand clasped over his chest, heaving for breath with wide azure eyes.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Aizen looked back at the mass of swirling whorls, the whirlpool of black reiatsu was a curtain between them and its master. He saw Zangetsu cease fluctuations in his peripheral vision, as the blade began to tremble, shaking like a leaf in a storm, chain rattling as the binds Ulquiorra had wrapped it in tore away. The Zanpakutō suddenly shot from its resting place, vanishing within the black blanket of energy.

There was an ear bleeding Hollow roar from within the darkness, long and loud and livid. And then, a single slash cut through the wall, dissipating it with mindless ease and revealing what was beyond.

Alabaster white skin. Taut, defined muscles. Taller. Leaner. Waist length snowy locks fluttered like feathers in the wind. Long fingers curled around a bleached Zangetsu, the Zanpakutō as pale as its wielder. Face concealed behind a mask that was as black as the night, two elongated horns that promised so much foreboding stuck out wickedly, jagged and sharp, as faint white stripes rolled down from the eyes like tears, stopping just before reaching grim black teeth.

There was no mistaking the ominous reiatsu that billowed free from the creature before them, devoid of colour with an epitome of pure darkness. The sand beneath his bare feet seemed to quiver and shift, as if trying to worm free from the depravity that wept its way forwards.

Gold orbs flickered into life within the depths of the blackness, glittering like gemstones. Except there was no wealth to be found, it was the twinkle of immorality, of atrocity. A silent promise of devilry and death.

As a final seal of definitive control, the naked body of the white Hollow before them was slowly clad in a bleached mimic of Ichigo's Bankai attire, it materialised from the reishi in the air around them, swirling together like beads of webbing until modesty was restored. Black tufts of fur encased his wrists and neckline, resembling the mane of a lion.

If possible, the completion of the garb seemed to send the creature's reiatsu to even higher levels, Aizen watched with bated breath as the Hollow's head tilted in an almost questioning manner, only to raise the white Zangetsu and point it directly towards him, it was suddenly swept to the side as if shaking off invisible tarnish, the force of which obliterated the scarlet column just behind the white figure, crumbling it into dust.

“So you finally got what you wanted.” Byakuya's voice was stiff, as if restraining the shudder threatening to run through it at the sight of the raw power before them, there was no fear in those steel eyes, but there was a heady struggle to remain standing, even while the brunet buffered the worst of the pungent Hollow reiatsu away from them.

“No.” Aizen said softly, not daring to tear his eyes away for even a second, “This is not what I wanted.”

Byakuya's face contorted into a frown, but the honesty on the brunet's voice was clear, “What do you mean?”

He didn't answer. He owed Byakuya nothing.

He had wanted Ichigo to merge with his Inner Hollow, to become one being, one beautiful, powerful being. But that had always centred upon the idea of Ichigo being the dominant leader of the shared Soul. He had envisioned long locks of sunset coloured hair, chestnut eyes ringed by gold and a feral smile that promised carnal urges and instincts while retaining the intimate lack of emotions that had always ensured him to be the most precious of his warriors.

This creature was the polar opposite. Beautiful yes, powerful yes, and wilfully feral down to the very root of the reiatsu it gave off. But this was not Ichigo. Ulquiorra's degradation of Ichigo's Soul had clearly broken something, shattered the careful symbiosis of his very existence.

Ichigo was not the sort of person to submit his Soul knowing he might never get it back. And that was exactly what he had done, Aizen could smell it in the air, he could smell the domination of the Hollow's power over Ichigo's spirit. His strawberry haired subordinate had surrendered himself to the perverted sinfulness of his Hollow... Willingly.

It had been self preservation. He had been dying. Ulquiorra had very nearly succeeded in ridding the world of a most precious sunset. Monochrome now reigned supreme in a world that should have been sun-kissed with glowing orange.

Watching an empty pale hand raise, long black nails dug beneath the chin of the blackened mask, slowly lifting it upwards. Fingers clasped tightly and peeled it clean away from the stunning pearly face beneath. Ruffling strands of hair fell across those gold and black eyes, hair framing his face like soft palms cupping at even softer skin. The scowl that was present made the Hollow seem even more like Ichigo, but the wide animalistic grin that carved its way across his face told a different story.

Aizen felt his chest tighten, he had never met another being in any of the three worlds that reeked with such ferocious, wanton instincts. He had heard Kenpachi speak of the instinct to kill being a powerful driving force, and it was one he knew to be true, but the white Ichigo before him was instinct incarnate. The physical depiction of bloodlust embodied in flesh and bone.

“Yo.” Silver tones cut across the silence like the delicious first lick of a knife against flesh, keen eyes swept from face to face, lingering on Aizen's for an especially long moment before they turned and stared off towards the tattered remains of the pillar Ulquiorra had been swallowed by, “Don't go anywhere.”

The black mask was discarded on the sand as the Hollow vanished in a blur of densely crackling Sonido, Aizen saw Byakuya's eyes widen, the fastest Shunpo user in Soul Society apparently unable to keep up with the movement. The brunet would never admit that he had lost sight of him as well.

A screech of frenzied laughter tore across the space, followed by the sight of Ulquiorra being tossed towards them, the white Hollow reappearing only to slam the heel of his bare foot into the Cuatro's spine, smashing him into the sand beside his black mask. White fingers clasped around pale cheeks, dragging the Espada off the ground and forcing his toes to scratch weakly in an attempt to find balance, gold eyes stared into wide green ones, smile turning mocking.

“Unhand my Espada.” Aizen's voice cut through the insanity rupturing before him, his face setting like stone, “He will be punished for his actions.”

Gold eyes met chocolate brown ones, “Unhand him?”

“Yes.” He stated calmly.

“Is that... An order? _Aizen-sama_?” The purr in that reptilian voice sent shivers everywhere possible.

Clenching his teeth slightly, the brunet nodded, “That is an order. Unhand him at once.”

Head tilting, the white Hollow giggled, it was a deranged sound full of irrationality and unsettling detachment, “I'm sorry to disappoint ya, Aizen-sama... But I got another set of orders to follow at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, eyes narrowing.

“Make it slow. Make it painful. Teach him the meaning of fear... Aibou can be rather unhinged himself at times, ya know? But I wouldn't deny him his wish. Not when he's given _me_ free reign.”

Aizen could almost see Ichigo saying it, the old Ichigo, the one he had known before Byakuya's involvement. He almost wanted to approve of it, to give Ichigo what he craved, to aid in repairing his broken pride. But he couldn't, he would have to step in.

“Aizen-sama.” The white Hollow's eyes were fixed on him, wide and abruptly very serene as he dropped the Cuatro to the floor without care, “Take one step towards us, just one step... And I'll cut ya down too.”

Aizen was startled, visibly, so far as to take a single solitary step backwards. He was no stranger to Ichigo's Inner Hollow, there had been countless times since being reunited with him in Shino that Ichigo had turned up on his doorstep, eyes as black as the night with glinting gold submerged in the centre. Normally, something had happened during the day which triggered an emergence of the Hollow, usually an event of anger or violence which seemed to call to the hidden spirit dwelling deeply within the strawberry.

He remembered like yesterday, when he'd opened his door only a few months ago to find Ichigo in some such state, aggravated beyond control, seething with a rage he was usually incapable of showing. Almost as if in a trance, the Shinigami had entered his private quarters and half pounced on him, begging to be dominated to wash away the torrent of anger brewing within.

The cause, he had discovered only when the Hollow was sated, had been Byakuya Kuchiki. The events in the bathhouse, the noble revealing that he was aware that Ichigo had broken into his office, and had stolen evidence relating to Aizen. The offer of aid, the hand held out to pull him from the darkness. It had rattled Ichigo to the core, to the extent that his Hollow had crept forwards and taken control.

But this was different. The Hollow had never threatened him, never promised harm to befall him, never defied him for more than a few fleeting seconds. Over the years, he had acknowledged that the creature's feelings towards him were far less than platonic, bordering on adoration. He knew that the creature's sensitivity towards him had coloured Ichigo's feelings as well, and he could only imagine that it was a bleeding effect which worked both ways. Ichigo's feelings about the nobleman currently being held captive would seep into the Hollow, creating a twisted mirrored effect of their day to day life.

But this was different. There was no affection present in those eyes. No adoration. No respect. No desire to bow down. There was only lust for bloodshed and pain. The will to humiliate Ulquiorra, to avenge the Shinigami who had given him a home within his Soul.

“Let him do it.” Byakuya's voice cut through his flow of thoughts like a blade, Aizen was surprised once again and looked down at the nobleman, blinking as he saw the disgust spreading across the elegant features, “Ichigo will never rest while the Espada walks free of what he did. Even if you reprimanded him yourself for his actions, it would never be enough. This is about Ichigo's _pride_. If you ever want him to come back from this... His orders must be followed.”

“He might not come back regardless.” Aizen muttered in response, “If the Hollow gets too strong, he'll never be able to fight his way free.”

“That's the risk he took when he surrendered to him.” Steel eyes met chocolate ones, narrowed and angry, yet coloured by pain as well, “Let Shiro do what Ichigo asked of him. At least give him that much dignity.”

Aizen looked at the pale Hollow, he hadn't moved. He seemed curious, willing to see what direction the conversation would take.

The brunet Shinigami lifted his chin, eyes narrowing as he aimed to show his lack of fear, “Would it at the very least... Be acceptable to ask you to wait until the Espada have arrived? If you are intent upon revenge I will not stop you, but I would like the others to see what happens when one of their own disobeys a direct order.”

White fingers coiled in black locks of hair, yanking Ulquiorra back towards his feet when he noticed the Cuatro attempting to crawl towards his Shinigami master, Shiro's smile grew wider, more menacing, “Havin' an audience sounds... _Entertainin'_.”

“Aizen-sama!” Ulquiorra let out a shrill shout, eyes wide as he seemed to realise help wasn't going to be given, “Aizen-sama please! I'm sorry! I will never touch him again, I swear it!”

Aizen looked at the Espada he had once believed to be the most loyal, “You are quite right, Ulquiorra. You won't.”


	48. The Rise Of Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle between Ulquiorra and Shiro begins, and in the dominion of bloodlust and death, there can be only one winner.

Prowling like the animal he was, Shiro circled his prey. Gold glinted eyes never straying from the horrified face of the Cuatro Espada who had abused his King. The rage seethed deep, the idea of someone touching his Aibou against his wishes again. He had avenged him before, he would do it again. Wanton, reckless urges to destroy and pilfer rushed through his very core like an addictive fuel urging him to attack, to ravage, to unleash carnage. But he held back.

Aizen had given him this opportunity, on the basis that he at least wait for the other Espada to witness the fall of one of their own. He wasn't sure why the man had suddenly flipped his decision, one minute he had reeked with the smell of someone who would save his subordinate, and the next minute he was content to allow the Cuatro Espada to meet his end. How very changeable.

Lazily, he dragged the tip of his white Zangetsu along the sand, drawing a perfect circle around his victim, watching as wide emerald eyes followed his every movement. It brought a smirk to his lips to see how unsettled the usually stoic creature was. It was a thrill he couldn't contain, allowing it to release in short bubbles of hysterical laughter that only seemed to add to the concern of the trembling wreck on the floor.

He could feel Grimmjow's eyes on him. He recognised the Sexta Espada with ease.

Not because of his vibrant hair, hair that was almost as startling as his Aibou's orange... No... He remembered him because of Sôkyoku Hill. That battle was as prominent in his mind as every other battle he'd ever fought, the Sexta had almost killed him, almost killed Ichigo. Not that it was Grimmjow's fault, at the time he'd been restricted by his Aibou's control, his Aibou's flesh and bone.

But not now.

Shiro owed him a rematch, and he would claim it once he was done with the pale mess on the floor. He could see that Grimmjow's quaking had subsided a great deal since he had first burst free from the restraints of Ichigo's mind, he wasn't sure why but there was something in those bright blue eyes... Something like understanding.

Blinking languidly as he took in the blue haired Espada's form and shape, the albino broke into a wholly sexual smirk. Oh he _remembered_. Ichigo had always felt uncomfortable around Grimmjow when they'd been in Soul Society together, and after the events of Sôkyoku Hill the strawberry had decided it was because Grimmjow had been an Arrancar in hiding. But that wasn't the truth. Not entirely.

The albino could remember now, while in complete control, the fragrant memory of blue hair and toned muscles. He could recall Ichigo's body being thrown down onto the bed in his dormitory in Shino. It was just like every other Friday, every other bunk up, every other fling. Except, Ichigo hadn't been the one in control. Shiro had snaked forwards, seduced the blue haired 'Shinigami' out of meagre curiosity and desire.

Ichigo didn't know. Ichigo... Didn't remember.

No wonder he'd felt such a primal need to defeat Grimmjow on Sôkyoku Hill, it was an instinctual urge to show he was stronger, he'd always been stronger... He'd simply chosen to submit in the past.

Freezing suddenly, Shiro tilted his head his lips parted in a small gasp of appreciation, feeling the powerful reiatsu heading their way. He could _smell_ the familial tones of Hollows. Of Arrancar. Of Espada. It was like a warm embrace welcoming him home. Unable to resist rising to the unspoken challenge, he arched his back, releasing a screeching Hollow roar from the very pit of his stomach, black and red reiatsu spiralling around his ankles and wrists as the very basis of instinctual desire to be recognised as the strongest wove its way into his every action.

Looking around with that ever feral grin as he heard the recognisable pops and crackles of Sonido, he finally came face to face with Aizen's elite warriors. They were a strange bunch for sure, and they all appeared equally surprised by what they had arrived to see.

He could tell the weakest Espada by how they responded to his reiatsu, the trembling; the sweating; the desperate pulses of their own power trying to buffer the weighty stench of darkness. The weakest reiatsu among them belonged to the tall, thin Espada with bubblegum pink hair and glasses, his whiskey coloured eyes were wide and startled as he was almost entirely pushed to his knees in a spasmodic tremble of gasping breaths. He likely would have fallen had it not been for the dark skinned Espada beside him, who despite struggling with shallow breaths and obvious sweat trickles that lined his face. The jagged looking teeth that hung in a necklace around his thick neck were a nice savage touch to an expression that otherwise seemed to ooze meditative calm.

Nnoitra. He knew that face. When the Cuatro and the Quinto had come to claim Byakuya he had been afraid, he could sense the power dwelling within the absurdly lanky male, as well as the promised violence. He had known back then that he couldn't help his Aibou win that fight, but things were different now. Maybe he would make demands of the Quinto, to satisfy his bruised pride at having allowed Byakuya to be captured. He was, at least, pleased to see the few scatterings of sweat coiling on that illusively long neck.

Glancing down, he knew already that Ulquiorra was stronger than Nnoitra, which made little sense as to why the pale Espada was reacting so badly under his reiatsu. Was it genuine fear that was paralysing him? Or the knowledge that his master had abandoned him to his fate? Either way, the Cuatro had fallen silent in the presence of the other Espada, perhaps hoping they might step in and save him, or perhaps to save face, and not to look utterly pathetic before them.

Golden eyes moved to the busty blond, the only woman among the Espada, she had gently coaxed Byakuya from Aizen's grasp, and was now shielding him from the overwhelming ridges of fierce reiatsu licking at them. A cold snarl reached his ears at the sight of her arms encircling the nobleman and it took him a long moment to realise the sound had escaped his own lips, but hadn't been voluntary. The snarl had been Ichigo's.

He growled internally, _**“Back off! She's protectin' him.”**_

He wasn't willing to continue allowing slips of Ichigo's personality to slip through the few remaining cracks. His Aibou wasn't strong enough for this fight, better that he sleep. Heal. Mend.

“Boss, who is this ant to lay hands on the Cuatro?”

Eyes dancing with amusement at the deep rumble that escaped the oldest looking Arrancar, Shiro allowed himself a moment to assess the appearance of what felt like the second strongest Espada. He appeared elderly, wide built and wore an air of regality that seemed ill suited to someone so arrogant. White hair was swept back by the remnants of his Hollow mask, taking the shape of a soft edged, five pointed crown. He didn't like him.

“Learn some respect, Barragan,” the lean Espada who stood the tallest beneath the impressive levels of reiatsu he was unleashing, grumbled with an almost yawn brushing gloved fingers through his waves of brown hair as he observed the scene with lazy, yet calculating blue-grey eyes, “Are you that senile that you can't recognise someone you saw only a few hours ago?”

He _liked_ this guy, he was brimming with idleness and a wilfulness to sleep, something Shiro was also acquainted with but there was power dwelling behind those eyes and impassive expression. Loneliness. Solitude. This was an Espada would would perfectly understand his and Ichigo's long standing attempts to curb the power they released around people too weak to survive under it. This was a man who also held back.

Gold eyes narrowed as he saw a brief flash of green before a small yet sprightly girl appeared from behind the brunet, raising an eyebrow he was able to detect that her reiatsu resonance was identical to the man she was now standing next to. They were one and the same. Two halves of the same Soul. For some reason it made him ache. If an existence like that was possible, could he achieve the same with his Aibou? Actually spending extended periods of time as separate beings? Rather than sharing the same body for the rest of eternity?

“ _Being awfully patient, aren't you?”_ Ichigo's voice suddenly filled his head like the unwanted buzzing of a fly, _“They're all here to watch, just like you wanted. So don't you think it's time you got on with it? Or has the attractive Primera dulled your bloodlust?”_

Almost sneering visibly at the attitude of his counterpart, he felt only a small pang of relief that his Aibou was recovering some of his sense of self, instead of wallowing in shame, though he didn't require his input.

“So... Ya satisfied?” He asked as he fixed Aizen with a lazy stare, “Or is there anyone else ya wanna have join this fuck-fest, _Aizen-sama_?”

The collective intake of breath from the Espada made him smirk widely, he respected Aizen as much as he ever had... Perhaps more now that he was the dominating Soul, but he wasn't prepared to kneel and kiss his feet. He wasn't like these... _Sheep_. He would bow when he wanted, to who he wanted! He'd accept the orders he wanted to accept! He'd listen when he was interested! He didn't have to slink back into the shadows the moment Aizen ordered it anymore, he didn't have to quiver at his voice and willingly accept everything he said. He was free! He was the leader! He-

Zangetsu rose sharply in front of his body, watching as the brunet Shinigami began to approach him instead of responding. He was determined to defend and kill his prey himself, he wouldn't risk interference. Not now. He was too close to fail now.

Shiro snarled, watched as the brunet only stopped when the very tip of the white blade was nestled in the centre of his collarbones, digging in just enough to force the skin to dip inwards. Chocolate eyes were boring into his own with an intensity that sent a shudder up his spine, he gnashed his teeth just to make sure the Shinigami knew he meant business.

“Would I be wrong,” Aizen began, a smirk slowly pulling across his lips, “To assume you'd want to fight him in his Resurrecciōn form?”

Momentarily surprised, a single white eyebrow quirked excitedly, “Can I?” He could have kicked himself for sounding so eager.

“You can. But not here. Any Espada above Cuatro are forbidden to unleash their true forms within the palace, the transformation alone would be enough to cause the building to collapse.” The man's gaze slowly moved towards the still quivering pink haired scientist, “Szayel. Open the roof.”

“A-Aizen-sama?!” The man almost squeaked.

The change was subtle, but it was something Shiro had seen first hand so many times, it was like flicking a switch. The line of Aizen's lips grew thinner, the tightness around his eyes became more pronounced, and just for the smallest second, his breath caught in his throat.

Peering towards the Espada in question, Shiro flashed a menacing grin, “Ya might wanna listen, Pinkie, otherwise yer next on my menu.”

Whiskey eyes widening at the promised threat, long fingered hands disappeared within the coat of his white uniform, fumbling as they produced a small device with a variety of coloured buttons, taking a moment to glance from Aizen to the white Hollow beside him, he silenced a gulp and prodded one of the buttons incredibly reluctantly.

Shiro looked skywards, grin stretching as he watched the vast blueness begin to rumble like an oncoming storm, a small circular darkness stretching above them, allowing the black inky truth of Hueco Mundo spill inside the palace.

“Now that's more like it!” He crowed, instantly lowering his sword from Aizen's throat as he flashed a sly wink at the brunet, sweeping down in one fluid movement as he snatched a fistful of inky black hair, hoisting Ulquiorra off the sandy floor, “Race ya there, Aizen-sama.”

The crack of his Sonido was deafening as he shot skywards, cackling wildly as white turned black and he shot out onto the roof of Las Noches, sucking in a huge breath as he threw Ulquiorra to one side. He could hear and feel the other Espada following along with Aizen and Byakuya. If he wasn't mistaken he detected reiatsu belonging to Gin and Tōsen arriving too. The gathering appeared on the rooftop just as the temporary opening juddered shut, sealing them outside.

Spinning to the side, he planted the heel of his foot squarely in Ulquiorra's chest and watched as he was thrown like a ragdoll towards one of the large white towers at the peak of the domed roof. He darted after him, the crackling sound that filled his ears confirming the speed of his Sonido, this was going to be a piece of cake. But he was going to have some fun.

Ulquiorra flipped suddenly, feet planted against the tower, the force behind the landing creating a crumbling crater as the Cuatro drew his Zanpakutō and glared at the approaching white Hollow. Blood was running down his face from a cut on his forehead, and already he could feel full depth bruises blooming across his abdomen and torso.

“No matter how your appearance and techniques may resemble those of an Arrancar, it is as distant from us as the Earth from the sky. It is an understandable route for humans and Shinigami who wish to obtain power, to imitate Hollows. However, it will never allow you to stand upon the same level as Arrancar.” Ulquiorra pointed his blade towards Shiro, face contorting into true loathing, “Enclose Murciélago.”

Shiro almost flinched as he felt rain splashing against his skin without warning, he blinked several times and gasped softly as he realised the jade droplets were reiatsu hailing down on them all. It barely hid Ulquiorra's transformation from sight but everything became clearer as the rain stopped, revealing jet black wings that stretched wide, longer and wilder locks of black hair which fluttered free beneath the complete Hollow mask that sat atop his head like long outward extending bat ears. His white shihakusho was more snug against his body, closed at the top in a tight clasp around his throat as it flowed outwards like a robe at the bottom.

“Don't drop your guard. Stay fully alert. Don't get distracted, for even a single moment, _trash_.”

Glowing green appeared in the Espada's outstretched hand, and Shiro barely saw it before it was right before his eyes, a gasp escaped his lips at the new and greater speed of his foe, eyes widening as he felt burning heat against his cheek, coming closer, searing hotter and hotter.

“Getsuga Tenshou!” He barked, arcing his white blade upwards as every instinct in his gut clawed its way free to defend him.

Black and red clashed with vibrant green in an explosive blast. The heat was scorching hot, like white flame tainted dark.

Shiro stumbled, falling onto one knee. His grin turning to a grimace as he watched crimson droplets of blood splash the concrete beneath his fingers, his gaze flitting around as he sensed Ulquiorra not far behind him, the smell of burning flesh tingling the back of his nostrils as he lifted a hand and touched his hairline, feeling the deep wound that appeared as a mottled mixture of burns and gouges.

“Interesting, your instincts are far sharper than I remember. Had you not released that Getsuga Tenshou, your head would be rolling by my feet.” Ulquiorra spun the jade lance between his fingers thoughtfully, lips pursed tightly, “But your abilities won't touch me again. I've had more than enough time to learn about them. Getsuga Tenshou... It isn't so different from one of _my_ powers. Allow me to show you.”

Shiro spun on the spot, sword raised and teeth clenched in defence, blinking once as he watched the Espada lift his free hand, talon clad index finger stretching out towards him. In an instance, black and green was swirling to life, spinning incredibly fast and giving off small sparks of power.

“Cero Oscuras.” The ball of power was released on command, exploding outwards towards the white Hollow almost identically to how a fully charged Getsuga Tenshou would. It blossomed outwards, growing larger and thicker, swallowing Shiro whole.

He gasped at the density of darkness swirling around him, feeling himself being picked up and thrown, his body arching awkwardly as he struck one of the white towers, smashing clean through it and sliding down a second until he hit the makeshift floor, he rolled once, twice, a third time, skidding to a stop when he dug his nails in, coughing harshly as his lungs burned.

It really was just like a real Getsuga Tenshou, he had felt their power and strength before and the... The Cero Oscuras was exactly the same. But how?! Why?! It made no sense to him... Made no sense at all.

Gold eyes snapped up as his prey appeared above him, a leathery wing lashing out and pinning him against the nearest wall, a green lance thrust forwards, spearing his chest and hanging him in place. Fingers tightened around his neck again. Shiro gagged on the blood coalescing in the back of his throat, some of it rose and splashed down his pale chin.

“Why have you not dropped your sword?” Ulquiorra asked, his eyes fixed on the white blade, a small frown slipping into place.

“Did ya think I'd give up just because ya seem a little stronger than before? We knew ya were strong from the very beginnin' when we sensed ya in Karakura town. Eyes followin' us no matter where we went... Tryin' to kill us, tryin' to pass it off as mistaken identity...” Shiro let out a low growling laugh, “Aibou might not have realised it but _I_ did. Grimmjow knew what we looked like... So ya would have known too... It wasn't a mistake. Ya wanted us dead.”

“How very perceptive of you.” The response was cold, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“I won't drop our sword.” He purred, grin slowly stretching, “Not for the likes of you, _Ul-qui-orr-a_.”

“I see.” The Espada stepped back, turning his back on him and taking measured steps back towards the crowd of watchers, “You have no perception of true strength, the likes of you never do. That is why you do not deserve it. Allow me to educate you before I erradicate you from sight.”

Watching as that same black and green reiatsu began to swirl again, this time encapsulating his body entirely, Shiro was struck hard by another jump in his foe's power, he could just about see physical changes beyond the wall of darkness, the cracking of a whip-like sound ringing in his ears. At this distance, he could see Aizen's face, and he too looked surprised.

“Resurrecciōn. Segunda Etapa.”

Everything was revealed in an instance, while black wings remained his long white attire was long gone, revealing his slender torso, chest patterned so that it almost seemed as if his Hollow hole was dripping black, blood-like liquid. His waist was covered in thick black fur, the same which now covered his arms and legs, fingers claw like and feet like talons. His eyes were different too, irises now yellow while the sclera had turned jade, teal tear markings had thickened and blackened, and all that remained of his Hollow mask were the two large bat-like ears that sprouted from his crown. The white Hollow could see the long black tail that had undoubtedly made the whip cracking noise previously, and he tilted his head, surprised that the creature before him was only the Cuatro Espada.

“I am the only Espada that has developed a second release state. Even Aizen-sama has never seen me in this form.” Ulquiorra rolled his shoulders, expression setting back into one of disinterest as he glanced towards the watching mass, “Despite this, do you still have the will to fight?”

Tearing the lance free from himself, Shiro stepped forwards, spitting blood to the side as he held Zangetsu just a little tighter, “Don't make me laugh, ya think a pretty little dress change is gonna put me off. You must be insane if you think-”

He was silenced by a dark furry hand on the side of his head, suddenly pushing him sideways smashing him against the floor and dragging him along it until cuts and open wounds littered every inch of his body, tearing aside some of the fabric of his coat-like shihakusho and rousing a cry of pain from his pale lips.

Righting himself the moment the hand disappeared, twisting clumsily on the spot to block the oncoming attack of another green lance, sparks clashed between them, scattering the ground like more rain. He let out a roar of anger and pushed harder, shoving the Espada back and hailing several weighty blows down on him, only to receive a sharp boot to the chest wound that had liberally been spreading crimson down his pale attire.

Panting harshly as he collided with another pillar of concrete, bursting through with effortlessness he was uncomfortable with, Shiro struck the floor, gagging faintly as blood seeped between his lips, he lifted his gaze angrily, observing the seemingly calm demeanour of his enemy.

“Lanza del Relámpago.” Ulquiorra momentarily clasped his hands together before drawing them apart, a thicker, stronger lance of crackling green energy fizzled into life, “I would prefer not to use this at close range... So feel free to stay where you are.”

Eyes widening as the spear flew towards him at an incredible speed, he lurched to his feet and lifted Zangetsu to deflect the blow, a choked sound escaping him as the Espada's black tail suddenly lashed out, wrapping around his wrist and yanking his sword arm to the side, he released a sharp Hollowfied cry as he was engulfed in volatile green. He felt the heat and the blast, pain rippled through his body as an arm, a leg, fingers were scattered in every direction. Blood splashed carelessly as the light faded.

Shiro hit the floor, eyes searching downwards as he took in his current state. A bubble of surprised laughter escaping him as he stared at what was left of his body. His head dropped back onto the stone roof, he could see Zangetsu embedded in the wall nearby, and beyond that he could see Byakuya tearing himself free from the olive skinned Espada.

The stupid noble was running towards him, unable to Shunpo thanks to the reiatsu suppressing bangles around his wrists. He'd never make it before one of the other Espada snatched him back up and dragged him to safety. With a frown, Shiro saw Aizen raise a hand, preventing any such action from taking place.

Byakuya was left to sprint across the open space, his expression open and mortified. Shiro could hear him yelling, telling him to get up, telling him to fight. Easy for him to say. He hadn't lost a third of his body. He grew light headed, vision blurring as blood loss took over. A frown touched the Hollow's face as he saw Ulquiorra's tail whip around, entrapping Byakuya's throat and hoisting the Shinigami into the air, dangling him like a trophy. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see it.

“ _You said you could win.”_ Ichigo's voice was thick with accusation, judgement, disappointment.

“ _ **I didn't expect him to have two Resurrecciōn forms. Shut the fuck up.”**_ He spat back.

“ _You're a mess because you decided to play with your fucking food.”_ Ichigo's voice was angry, complaint getting worse, _“Are you going to sit there and watch him kill Byakuya? Are you going to let your prey win?”_

Biting his tongue in annoyance, the Hollow knew he was right, but he still tried to ignore the angry voice in his head. Blotting Ichigo out, snuffing him deeper into the depths of the inky ocean he'd created in his mind. Enough was enough. He was in charge now. But... He _had_ played for too long. The thrill of the fight, the excitement, the rigorous enjoyment of being free had lead him astray. Now someone important to both of them was in danger.

“Sorry... This is all a bit shit, ain't it...” He said loudly, eyes cracking open as black and red reiatsu gushed from inside his body and swept outwards, stemming the flow of blood, repairing the damage, “Ya would think... After twenty six years I'd have a better grasp on wantin' to mess around and torment people.”

The silence that followed his statement was almost deafening and as he slowly picked himself up, making a point of flexing the newly grown limbs, he cricked his neck and raised his eyebrows suggestively at Ulquiorra, his usual cocky grin returning as he flexed his fingers, summoning Zangetsu from its resting place in the wall. He swept the blade around as soon as it was within his clasp, throwing dust into the face of the Cuatro Espada.

He wasn't wasting anymore time. It was time to end this game of cat and mouse.

An exuberant laugh escaped him as he wove through the air, each movement precise and like water swirling around in a tempestuous crash. Zangetsu was brought down in a pirouette, slashing clean through the tail that was cutting off Byakuya's ability to breathe. With one free arm, he caught the noble as he fell and helped remove the tufty tip of tail from around his throat.

“Yo, Kuchiki. We gotta stop meetin' like this ya know?” He offered a wide toothy smile to the startled noble, feeling a fluttering warmth in his belly as he saw just how relieved Byakuya was, then he turned to the Espada and shouted loudly, “Someone catch him!”

He hurled the startled nobleman back towards the Hollows, taking just a moment to watch as Starrk, Harribel and Grimmjow all darted forwards to catch the Shinigami. It appeared that Grimmjow won.

The moment the noble was out of harm's reach, he turned his attention back to his _victim_ , his grin widening slowly, menacingly, full of promise and threat, and pain, “Now... I gotta apologise. But, if I lose to ya here because I decided to play around, Aibou's gonna be really pissed off at me.”

“High speed regeneration?” Ulquiorra breathed, looking at his renewed form in horror, “Just how far will you go to trample on what we are, trash.”

Throwing his head back, Shiro released a true belt of cackling laughter, allowing insanity to seep through the cracks before he brought a hand up, holding it tight in front of him. Power began to swirl between his fingertips, taking shape across his face as the black mask he'd abandoned in the palace below formed across his face.

“Wouldn't ya like to know?” With a single, solitary yank downwards, the mask completed, black and white, horns stretching high, golden eyes glowing in the slits, teeth parting enough to reveal his trademark smirk as he shot across the rooftop, twisting and turning, spiralling and twirling, dancing the dance macabre, every fibre of his being alive. The energy was flowing, faster than blood, faster than air.

His movement were familiar, a complex concoction of Aizen and Byakuya, whisked together with something that was a complete mix of Ichigo and Shiro together. That insane unpredictable edge that couldn't be foreseen.

Ulquiorra was keeping up, but barely. He now bore vastly more wounds than the white Hollow, breathing ragged, body heavy, suffering under the impending weight of reiatsu that constantly crashed against him. Cero Oscuras was deflected with a snap of fingers. Lanza del Relámpago was batted aside with bare hands.

Shiro was relentless, pushing him harder, faster, further. Never giving up. Never lessening the power behind each blow.

Suddenly, Zangetsu was cast aside, impaled in the stone floor as he lashed out with talon sharp fingers, digging at every expanse of flesh he could reach.

“Make it slow. Make it painful.” He coiled his legs around the Cuatro Espada's waist, slithering around him like a snake until he was behind him, fingers hooking into his back, tearing his wings off with brute force, laughing maniacally at the pleasant scream of pain his actions rouses, “Teach him the meanin' of fear!”

Slipping free, he bent forwards and impaled Ulquiorra on the horns of his mask, hoisting him up into the air ruthlessly, “Are ya afraid yet? Being so overpowered while in yer second release form? Knowin' I got the power to end yer life with a snap of my fingers... Knowin' that _no one_ is gonna save ya. Are ya scared... Ulquiorra Cifer?” He threw the lithe man down, grabbing him by the throat as he lifted him as if he was nothing.

Black and white lips leaked blood, teeth clenched in defiance despite the pain. Shiro could smell the Espada trying to use his own high speed regeneration to come with the injuries. Tutting, he tipped his head forwards, pointing his horns towards the Espada's chest before he began charging a brilliant crimson Cero, it grew larger and larger until he released it, allowing the scarlet light to immerse them both.

He threw Ulquiorra's body down on the roof, watching as his arms and legs disintegrated from the heat and the fire, he had no doubt the Espada would be able to heal if he was given the time to do so. He planted the heel of his foot in the man's chest, pinning him down as he watched stubs take on shape, reverting to resemble limbs again.

“Impressive.” He breathed.

“I do not wish for trash to compliment me.” Came the hoarse reply.

“I'm really done with hearin' ya call me trash.” White locks of hair that were stained red from blood fluttered around his face as he shook his head, “Ya got no idea... Do ya? Ya got no idea who ya messed with.”

“I had the misfortune to mess with Human _scum_.” Yellow and green eyes narrowed venomously, “Ichigo Kurosaki never deserved Aizen-sama's affections, nor the power given to him. He's nothing more than human trash. A befitting host for something like _you_.”

Shiro dropped down to straddle the Espada, and he hooked his fingers under the chin of his mask and lifted it free, holding it above his head and allowing it to disintegrate between the digits, he tilted his head and smiled down at the Espada, dragging one finger along his cheek. He was pleased when the contact drew a shudder of displeasure.

“Yer right.” He mused, his voice taking on a soft, purring edge as he leaned closer, slowly running his tongue along the line of black tear-like markings on his face, “He is the most befittin' host for something like me. But unfortunately, he ain't here right now.”

Blinking as he felt a sudden impact in the region of his chest, the albino raised an eyebrow and pulled back, looking down to see a fiery green lance sticking into his chest. Rolling his eyes, growing bored Shiro grabbed the scalding spear, making eye contact with the Cuatro Espada as his fingers tightened, shattering the jade energy. He wasn't at all surprised when Ulquiorra's expression turned horrified upon seeing his completely uninjured torso.

At last revealing the fear Shiro had been waiting for, Ulquiorra recoiled, “W-What... What are you... Ichigo Kurosaki...”

Standing slowly, he stepped away from the Espada as he summoned Zangetsu back to his grasp, he made eye contact with the chocolate brown eyes that had never once left him since the battle had begun. Aizen was still watching, patiently. He felt a surge of contentment wash over him and released a tiny sigh as his lust for bloodshed began to wane.

“I told ya... Ichigo Kurosaki ain't here right now.”

His free hand rose, sweeping his waist length silvery locks over one shoulder, revealing something unseen on the left hand side of his neck to the crumpled Espada. He watched as disbelieving eyes swept over the exposed skin, widening in terror before a suffocated cry escaped the Cuatro at what he saw.

Smile sliding from his face, he took measured steps forwards, planting his feet either side of the Espada's head, “Now... Do ya understand?”

“I... I'm sorry...” The breathless, whimpering tone that escaped Ulquiorra was incredibly pleasing to the ears, he was even more gleeful when the Espada released his Resurrecciōn form, reverting to his normal body in an act of submission, “I didn't know... I swear to you... I didn't know...”

“Of course ya didn't,” he snorted, lifting Zangetsu and carefully slotting the top of the blade just beneath the lip of the helmet like mask on the other man's head, “Don't be afraid, Ulquiorra... I ain't gonna kill ya.”

“W-What?”

“I gave him my word, ya see, to make ya long for somethin' as sweet as death.” He dipped the blade deeper, wiggling it slightly as if to make his point, “I can't refuse his _last_ wish.”

“NO! Anything but that! Please!” Ulquiorra's green eyes were wide now, unbelievably so, his breathing frantic, “Please! Kurosaki-sama!”

With a sickening squelch and a snarl, he cleaved the Espada's mask from his head, watching as it rolled away across the blood splashed roof. Ulquiorra's screams were ear piercing, penetrating and pathetic. The Arrancar was spasming wildly on the floor, writhing like a slug in salt, his body convulsing.

“My name ain't Kurosaki.” He said simply, flicking his sword to one side to rid the stains of blood that dared to sit there, “My name... Is _Shiro_.”

Snatching a fistful of black hair, he dragged the screeching mess of broken Arrancar towards the watching crowd, sword scratching faintly at the concrete as he grew close enough to see the varied expressions of horror and surprise across the faces of the other Espada.

He settled golden eyes on Aizen, dropping Ulquiorra's body as he stabbed Zangetsu into the roof, coming to a sharp stop only a few steps away from his creator. Shiro stared into the chocolate pools that had never left his form, tilting his head curiously at the expression he saw seated on his face. It was something of an enigma, so many different emotions that were barely revealed. Pride, horror, wonder, shock, disapproval, excitement...

Sucking in a breath, a blisteringly bright smile stretched across his lips as he dropped down onto one knee, bowing to the Shinigami, “Cero Espada... Reportin' for duty. Aizen-sama.”

“C-Cero... Espada?” He heard Byakuya's disbelieving voice to his right but he didn't lift his head, he didn't even twitch. Ichigo was quiet now, sleeping, slumbering deep, his was _his_ time to shine.

A soft touch to the top of his head brought a purr from his lips, and only then did he dare to lift his gaze, golden eyes fluttering as he found Aizen crouched in front of him, that soft touch sliding down until it cupped his chin, a slow smile forming on _his_ lover's face.

“Welcome home.”


	49. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the battle concluded and Shiro's true nature revealed, Byakuya finds himself in an ever deepening pool of despair. That is until he finds he discovers that he is not alone in his concerns.

Byakuya stood in silence on the balcony leading out from Grimmjow's private quarters, he had been returned there once the battle on the roof had concluded. Stolen away without getting answers beyond the blood chilling sight of a Gothic zero on the side of Shiro's neck. A burning reality he couldn't ignore, no matter how much he wanted to. Shiro was an Espada. The _strongest_ Espada.

It all made sense... At least in some sick and twisted way. Aizen craved power, he had always craved power. And Ichigo had always been an unquenchable well of strength that had never added up, had never been possible. A Human living as a Shinigami with a psychopathic Hollow embedded in his mind. Of course Aizen had been unwilling to let go, of course Aizen had been unwilling to kill him... Why would he kill his most powerful weapon?

Letting out a shaky breath, the noble dropped his head into his hand, heart heavy. There had been a moment, in between the horror of realising what had been done to Ichigo by the Cuatro Espada and seeing Shiro defeat said Espada... Where he had believed everything would be alright. A silent belief that Shiro would win the fight, defeat the enemy and then... Revert to reveal blinding locks of orange hair, and warm chestnut eyes. A tiny hope that they would escape Hueco Mundo with their friends... And call the rescue mission a success.

It had been a ludicrous belief. The sight of the monochromatic Hollow prostrating himself before Aizen had shattered every hope in his mind. The sight of that... Brand, that Gothic zero... He felt like a fool. He _was_ a fool.

“Aizen always meant more to him than anything else. He said as much... Why didn't I listen?” He muttered, digging his nails into his hairline to try and cut off the aching sensation in his chest, the fear that he would never again see the vibrant hues of Ichigo's personality.

“I take it you've met the Cero before then?” Grimmjow's voice was loud behind him.

Byakuya glanced around sharply, startled, he hadn't sensed or heard his arrival. He blinked upon seeing not only Grimmjow, but Starrk; Barragan; Harribel; Nnoitra; Zommari and Szayel as well, all sitting in various positions around the Sexta's living room. They were all looking at him. All wanting answers.

Heaving a sigh, he forced himself up and stood in the balcony doorway, trying not to appear intimidated by the powerful people around him, “We've met a few times, yes. He is... Ichigo's alter ego, of a sort. A Hollow... Trapped inside his Soul by an experiment Aizen performed on him, over twenty years ago.”

“We know of the experiment,” Szayel stated, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall, “The Hōgyoku was used on us all at one time or another, it is necessity in order to create Espada. But we do not have alter egos... We are just us.”

“You were already Hollows when the Hōgyoku was used on you. Ichigo wasn't,” he wetted his lips restlessly, “He was Human.”

“A Human?” Harribel repeated in surprise, “I had no idea... How is that even possible?”

“His father was a Shinigami, a strong one at that... A former Taichou. Even as a child Ichigo was strong, when he threw himself in front of his parents to protect them from the Hōgyoku he took the full blast. It created this... Split personality. The Human side, Ichigo. The Hollow side, Shiro. Ichigo had no idea he even existed until a few months ago.”

“You said you'd met a few times... When was the first?” Starrk questioned, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“I... That's hard for me to say really. There were two occasions in which I met him, under different circumstances.” He perched on the edge of the coffee table and swallowed hard, “The first time was when I revealed to Ichigo that Aizen had experimented on him, the realisation shattered something and... His Hollow form came to the forefront, similar to how it did on Sôkyoku Hill... I'm sure you recall, Grimmjow.”

The blue haired Arrancar nodded once, “Yeah, I remember. He was fuckin' strong even back then but... He was just a fledgling, I was able to overpower him. It was nothin' like what we saw out there today...”

“What you saw on Sôkyoku Hill wasn't the real Shiro.” The nobleman stated simply, “It was a broken amalgamation of both Ichigo _and_ the Hollow. Today... Today was the real thing.”

“What of the second meeting?” It was Szayel who spoke again, his need for knowledge clear from his tone.

“After the events of Sôkyoku Hill Ichigo fell into a coma while recovering from his injuries. His Soul began to fail and it became imperative to wake him, I ventured into his Inner World to bring him back and... Shiro appeared to me once I witnessed the true events of the night Aizen used the Hōgyoku on him. Shiro was... Very different then... He was remorseful and saddened but he acted as my guide to Ichigo.” Byakuya paused for a long moment, “He confided in me that... He was in love with Aizen, and physically couldn't refuse him, couldn't disobey his orders.”

“It is a rare enough occurrence for a regular Hollow to feel emotions such as love,” Szayel scoffed as he took notes in a journal of sorts, “But an Inner Hollow? That seems irrational... Did it effect Kurosaki?”

“Yes,” he muttered, “They share a consciousness, Shiro's feelings towards Aizen coloured Ichigo's feelings towards him. But it works both ways. Ichigo's feelings towards me... Effected Shiro's feelings too.”

“Interesting... Very interesting. I've never heard of this before...”

Silence fell for a long moment, but Grimmjow broke it with an almost melancholic revere, “He's a monster. The entire time he was gettin' beaten up by Ulquiorra he was... He what? Playin' around? Pretendin'?”

Byakuya shuddered at the memory, the sight of Shiro's body being blown apart by Ulquiorra's powers sent a chill through him, he hugged himself as he forced back his emotions, “He is instinct incarnate... Every burning little natural desire bundled into one body and let loose. He... Craves the violence, the bloodshed, the pain. It excites him.”

“We can't have someone that deranged as the Cero.” Starrk's voice was quiet, his eyes closed, “He is... Irrational. Insane. Unstable. Violent without hesitation. I'm damn sure the only person he feels any loyalty towards is Aizen. He'd kill us all if he was asked to.”

“I fear you are correct in your assessment.” The raven haired Shinigami nodded again, “He'd kill anyone if he was asked to by Aizen. Though... I truly fear he would kill anyone he wished with or without orders. And Aizen would likely be the only person capable of stopping him.”

“He'd even kill you?” Grimmjow frowned, “We all saw how he rushed to save you when Ulquiorra grabbed you.”

Byakuya touched his throat, remembering the tightness of the Cuatro's tail, the relief he'd felt when Shiro had cut him free, he clicked his tongue against his teeth, “The only thing that has kept me safe has been Ichigo's control over him. I fear his rescue was only as a result of the last embers of Ichigo's consciousness reaching out to him.”

“So, as long as the Hollow is the dominant one, we're all fucked.” Nnoitra crossed his long legs and reclined back in the sofa, his usual grin upside down, “Not that I don't like a good fight but... I don't wanna end up like Ulquiorra. There's no coming back from having yer mask removed.”

“What... Happens?” He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know, but the tension around the room made him ask.

Harribel stood up slowly, walking forwards she rested her hands on his shoulders, “It varies from Hollow to Hollow. Most Gillian class Arrancar would survive with their mentality intact, they would change very little besides becoming weaker than before, easy fodder for hungry predators... But the higher you go up the power levels the worse the effects...”

“For someone like Ulquiorra,” Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, “In terms you'll understand, Kuchiki... It's like having the Soul of your Zanpakutō torn out of your body and destroyed. You lose your Bankai, your Shikai... Your reiatsu levels plummet... You experience agonising pain and eventually...”

“You become like a vegetable.” Szayel stood straighter and approached the noble, stopping just in front of him as he swept his fingers through the Shinigami's hair, “In time, he will likely lose the ability to speak... He will be capable of fulfilling only the simplest of orders, all while remembering exactly what he used to be. It is... A cruel fate.”

“He got what he deserved.” Byakuya and Grimmjow spoke in unison, surprising the nobleman.

“A fair assessment.” The Octavo agreed and took a seat beside Starrk.

Grimmjow folded his arms and huffed moodily, “Well, whatever he's done we can't just leave things as they are. I ain't willin' to live my life in fear that I'll get cut down for pullin' the wrong facial expression.”

“Agreed.” Starrk lifted his head slowly, staring across the room blindly, “We have to come up with some plan to get the kid to take control again.”

“Easier said than done,” whiskey eyes rolled dramatically as Szayel tapped the arm of the couch, “If all this information is accurate and Kurosaki spent that many years suppressing his Hollow... You can be damn sure Shiro isn't going to give up control easily. Even if they are comrades, Hollows are naturally greedy.”

“We need a foothold, somethin' to snap the kid to his senses.” The Sexta agreed.

Standing slowly, Byakuya reached up to adjust one of his kenseikan, a restless action, “Well, on that account we have at least some advantages at the present moment.”

“What are they, Byakuya-san?” Harribel asked.

“Firstly, Ichigo's closest friends are being held captive here in Las Noches. Secondly, I am also being held prisoner here. Thirdly, I would be willing to stake my life on the fact that Zangetsu won't want Shiro to remain in control, so we technically have an ally _inside_ Ichigo's Inner World. And finally... As I said before, I believe Shiro rescued me from Ulquiorra because of Ichigo's fading control,” very slowly, the noble lifted his working arm and nudged the sleeve of his shihakusho out of the way, “While he was doing that he also removed the reiatsu suppressing bangles you fitted me with.”

“He freed you?!” Starrk was on his feet, checking him over, acknowledging that both were indeed missing, “How did we not notice?”

“Shiro did not free me, I am confident it was Ichigo. I know it sounds far fetched but... There was a second where his eyes weren't quite right, they were clouded over, like he wasn't seeing properly. And then it was over and he threw me back to you.” He held his head a little higher, “And you didn't realise because I am highly adept at concealing my reiatsu. I was trained to do so from a young age.”

“What good does it do, knowing that he removed your shackles?” Zommari spoke for the first time during the discussion.

The Kuchiki heir met his gaze evenly, “It may seem insignificant, but it speaks volumes! It shows that, at least somewhere deep inside, Ichigo's spirit is still burning. He is still in there somewhere, he just needs guidance to find his freedom again.”

“It sounds to me,” Grimmjow looked at him, “Like you have a plan, Kuchiki.”

“As it happens,” he glanced at the blue haired Arrancar with a faint smirk, “I believe I do. But it will take time to set up, and we will have to coordinate with your other prisoners. Who is in charge of monitoring them?”

“Ulquiorra was the prison master,” Harribel stated, folding her arms under her bosom, “But I can take over that duty now. If you have anything that needs relaying to them, you can trust me to do it.”

“You have my gratitude.” He nodded to her, “For a start, I need to know what sort of state Renji is in, if possible allow the Human woman to heal him. Her powers are incredibly strong, even if he is near death I have no doubt she will be able to save him.”

“Of course.”

“If her powers are that good... Why haven't you asked her to heal your arm?” Szayel asked, leaning forwards as he tapped his pen against the bandages protecting the noble's useless left limb.

Blinking, Byakuya stared into whiskey coloured eyes a little blankly, he felt a pang of discomfort rising as he was forced to answer, “Truth be told I... Never considered that she would be able to repair something that had occurred within Ichigo's Inner World.”

“Perhaps we should give it a try?” Pink eyebrows wiggled suggestively, “If you're planning to lead this little mutiny, you will need to be at full strength.”

He was saved the trouble of answering when Nnoitra released a groan, “Man, Aizen-sama is gonna kill us all for this...”

“Somehow I don't think he will.” Byakuya murmured, turning his back on the Espada as he glared out at the sands, “He knows Shiro is strong, he knows he is the Cero Espada but this isn't want he planned. He always planned to have Ichigo be the dominant being. Perhaps he intended to use the Hōgyoku on Ichigo after he'd gone through the battle for control with Shiro, to create the perfect Cero Espada... Either way, he is likely trying to come up with his own idea of how to free Ichigo.”

“We should bring the Boss in on it then.” Barragan rumbled.

“Absolutely not.” The noble snapped, shooting a venomous glare at the elderly looking Espada, “I don't trust him not to make things ten times worse... We will sort this out ourselves. If you so much as breathe a word to him... I will kill you.”

“Bold words from a caged ant.” The Segunda growled.

“A promise, from someone who has never feared their chains.” He spat back, clenching a fist, “Ichigo came here to rescue me. That makes him my responsibility. And I will get him out of this, I swear it.”

“I'd listen to him.” Grimmjow's hand came to rest on the noble's shoulder, a surprising gesture, “This one is probably the scariest Shinigami in Soul Society. When he makes a promise, he keeps it.”

Despite the bite mark still aching on his shoulder from their spat in the laboratory, Byakuya unwillingly found himself appreciating Grimmjow more and more. He had realised things were amiss with Ulquiorra, he had gone with him to see Aizen and had spoken up to make the lord of Las Noches listen to them. The man was feral and unpredictable... But there seemed to be more to him than that. A moral code beneath the brashness, a determination not too dissimilar from Ichigo's.

For the first time, Byakuya found himself wondering exactly why Grimmjow was following Aizen. For that matter... Why were any of the Espada following him?

Casting a quick glance around the room, he couldn't figure it out just by taking in what little he knew about each of them. What reason did they have, aside from the repayment of their Arrancar appearance and powers, to follow a Shinigami overlord who seemed to discard them as easily as he made them?

A sharp thought suddenly speared his consciousness like one of Ulquiorra's javelins and he glanced around again, there was something to be said from the overwhelming presences in the room. A strange integration of personalities, characteristics that were unrelated to their status. An aura each Espada gave off.

“There's more to your ranks than mere power, isn't there?” He asked.

“How do you mean?” Grimmjow frowned.

“It's hard to explain... There's... Something about you, each of you that...” He took a breath, “Like an added feature to your being that makes you more than you seem.”

“Very perceptive.” Szayel snorted, “I hadn't expected a Shinigami to sense such things about us, especially so quickly.”

“So, I'm right?” He asked.

The scientist gestured around the room as he spoke, “You are correct about us. Solitude, Ageing, Sacrifice, Emptiness, Despair, Destruction, Intoxication, Madness, Greed and Rage. We represent aspects of death. That is the only thing I can imagine you are sensing.”

As he looked around the room, he was sure he could pinpoint at least some of the aspects and their... Owners? Szayel was undoubtedly Madness, Grimmjow couldn't be anything other than Destruction and Nnoitra's reiatsu reeked of Despair. It seemed logical that Aaroniero would have been Greed, and perhaps Yammy had been Rage. Barragan was clearly Ageing if his appearance was anything to go by.

“I can't place Solitude, Sacrifice and Emptiness.” He said quietly.

“Emptiness was Ulquiorra's penchant.” Grimmjow muttered, “Not that you'd know it from how he was actin' towards the end.”

“I am Sacrifice.” Harribel stated softly.

“And I am Solitude.” Starrk yawned, waving a lazy hand.

“I see. Thank you for your clarity.” His shoulders began to sag from tiredness, the events of the day beginning to catch up with him, “If you do not mind... I will retire for the evening. It has been a long... Stressful day. And if we are to act on our plans, I will need my energy.”

“Take the bed,” Grimmjow said gruffly as he nudged the bedroom door open with his hip, “I ain't gonna be sleepin' while these assholes are in my room.” Most of the Sexta's ire seemed directed towards Nnoitra and Szayel.

“You have my thanks,” the noble slipped passed his blue haired host and paused, glancing back into the room of Espada, “I know you are acting because of self preservation, and a desire not to serve under Shiro's lunacy but... Nevertheless, your willingness to hear me out and your desire to assist me is appreciated beyond measure. I thank you all. And I wish you a goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Byakuya-san.” If the crease at the corners of Harribel's eyes were to be believed then she was offering him a smile.

“Night.” Starrk offered a small nod.

Grimmjow began to pull the door shut, but seemed to hesitate for a moment, making eye contact with the Shinigami, “If you need anythin' during the night... No matter what it is... Come and get me. I'll be in here.”

Byakuya was taken aback by the quietness of his voice and the depth of concern in his eyes. Not for the first time, the Kuchiki heir found himself realising that there was more to the Sexta Espada than he usually showed. Maybe the same could be said of all the Espada. Given the right environment, given the right treatment... Did these sentient Hollows have to be the enemy?

Watching as the door shut with a small click, the noble perched on the edge of the bed, “Thank you Grimmjow.” He said almost silently.


	50. The Light And The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the battle atop Las Noches, Shiro and Aizen retire to the King's Suite to clear the air and figure out where they stand.

The gates creaked open as Shiro descended the stairwell, his fingers clasped tightly around Ulquiorra's ankles as he dragged the unconscious man behind him. He couldn't quite hide the satisfied smirk that crossed his face with each thud the Espada's skull made against the stone steps.

As he reached the bottom floor, he glanced around and lifted one pale eyebrow at the sight of the brunet haired Shinigami who was just a few meters away. Aizen had accompanied him to the cells in silence, but he'd felt those dark eyes on him ever since they'd left the scene of the battle. His attention was drawn away by the sound of scuffling feet from a nearby cell, and the Cero Espada stalked down the hallway between them until he found an empty one, ignoring the gawping stares of the prisoners.

He threw Ulquiorra into the empty cell and followed in behind him, rolling the man onto his back as he dropped down and straddled his hips silently. Deft fingers made short work of tearing the Espada's coat open, exposing his torso. Golden eyes narrowed on the Gothic four that remained branded on his skin.

“K-Kurosaki-kun?” A timid voice asked from the cell beside him.

Shiro looked around in annoyance at the interruption, scowling at the petite woman who'd spoken. He recognised her immediately. Orihime. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving. Beyond her form he could see her husband with his hands resting cautiously on her waist, blue eyes narrowed on him behind his spectacles. Further beyond, he could see the fearful and shocked faces of Chad and Rukia. He could see Renji sprawled out on the cot of his cell, sweaty, pale, shaking.

He looked back down at Ulquiorra and lifted a hand, tensing his fingers as he charged a large Cero in his palm, expression set like stone.

“Kurosaki-kun what are you doing?!” Orihime was up against the bars, her hand felt small as it grabbed his shoulder.

“Don't touch me, if ya value your arm.” He snarled, lifting his eyes slowly to fix her with a deathly glare, “And my name ain't Kurosaki. Remember that if ya value your tongue.”

“I would listen to him, were I in your place, Orihime-chan.” Aizen's voice was friendly, uplifted as he leaned incredibly casually against the wall opposite the cells, “My Cero Espada has a penchant for ripping people limb from limb when they annoy him.”

Smiling to himself as he looked back down at Ulquiorra's barely moving chest, he lowered the Cero to his skin, pushing it against him. Twisting. Burning. The smell of mottled flesh was pungent as he scrubbed out the last evidence that Ulquiorra Cifer had ever been an Espada. He was unworthy of his rank. Unworthy of the power it bestowed upon him. Unworthy of the position it gave him within Las Noches. No more.

Murciélago had disintegrated into dust after the removal of the Cuatro's mask remnant, there was no way back for him. When he finally woke, he would do so with the knowledge that he had lost everything and he would never get it back.

He flicked his hand aside and allowed the Cero to fizzle into nothing as he got to his feet, he shut Ulquiorra inside the small cage and let out a long breath.

“Satisfied?” Aizen rested a hand on his shoulder, head tilted slightly to one side.

“More or less.” He flashed a sly smile at the brunet, “I wanna go now. I don't wanna be here when he wakes up... No one should deal with _that_ mess.”

“Of course, there are things we need to discuss as well.”

Shiro nodded once, walking away from Ulquiorra's cell with a definite spring in his step, he paused only long enough to meet Rukia's wide eyed gaze and flashed a feral grin at her, “He warned ya, didn't he? Aibou said if he spent too much time here... I'd rise up and swallow him whole. Well, guess what _princess_... He was right. Enjoy yer new reality.”

The albino Hollow left the prison, leaving Aizen to lock the gates up before they walked in silence towards the King's Suite. The quiet between them was peaceful, private. Shiro allowed his hand to stretch out, fingertips brushing the walls curiously. He could feel the vibrations of reishi running through every inch of brick and stone, like the very heart of Las Noches was built on a foundry of power.

When they passed the threshold into the King's Suite, Shiro sucked in a breath, wandering towards one of the large windows. His gold and black eyes darted from side to side, scanning the sands with interest as he took in the dark expanse of Hueco Mundo. His time on the roof hadn't been enough to truly comprehend the appearance of the Hollow home world.

“It's beautiful here.” He found himself saying quietly, glancing around as he felt dark brown eyes on him, “Ya just gonna stand there and stare at me?”

“As blunt as ever I see.” Aizen muttered, a soft chuckle escaping him as he walked around his desk, sitting down as he glanced over the half finished paperwork which had been interrupted by Grimmjow and Byakuya earlier in the day, “As I understand it... You named yourself?”

“Well, ya never seemed bothered in doin' it for me.” He shrugged as he stalked across the room, resting his hands on the opposite side of the desk, he read the papers upside down, “I wasn't gonna live the rest of my life havin' him call me 'Hollow' for fuck's sake.”

Lifting his gaze for long enough to offer the Espada a brief glare, he spoke again, “It wasn't my place to name you. All Hollows have their own names, they discover them once they become Adjuchas.”

“But I was never gonna become an Adjuchas, I was born a Vasto Lordes.” The pout was audible, “As my creator, ya really should have named me...”

“Perhaps.” He muttered, “You named yourself Shiro, yes?”

“I did.” The white Hollow straightened proudly.

“I will be sure to remember that then.” Aizen offered a very small smile as his gaze returned to his work, “Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“You took quite severe damage during your fight with Ulquiorra, despite your... Impressive high speed regeneration I wish to know if you are fully healed.” Aizen closed his eyes, letting out a small sigh.

Shiro seemed surprised for a moment but then broke into his usual grin and stretched the limbs he had regrown, “I'm fine! It was kinda mean to tease everyone like I did but... I was under orders ya know?”

“Your game was dangerous, but I am pleased to hear you are alright.” The brunet hesitated, meeting that golden gaze, “And what of Ichigo?”

“What about him?” The sudden change to a scowl was almost frightening in its speed.

“What Ulquiorra did to him... The last time something like that happened he was incapable of feeling emotions, it didn't effect him. I suspect this time it was vastly different. Is he alright?”

Shiro's scowl deepened and he looked away, “He went quiet once Ulquiorra was defeated, his dyin' wish was fulfilled so to speak... So now, he's sleepin'.”

“Sleeping?”

Narrowed eyes flitted around the room restlessly, hands digging into his pockets as he snapped his teeth, “I slept. I slept... For years after killin' his family. _Years_. Now... It's his turn. He'll sleep like I did.”

“I see.” Standing slowly, Aizen moved towards the pale Espada. He could already sense that Shiro was temperamental, almost bipolar in his reactions. He would have to be cautious, it would take careful management to avoid unnecessary conflicts between them, “Forgive me, it must seem as if I am solely concerned for his well being, as opposed to your own. I assure you, that is not the case.”

“Yeah, right.” The Hollow snorted, “Everyone... Is always interested in him. But he'd be dead without me! Do they ever remember that? Do they ever care about that? Fuck no.”

“I remember, Shiro.” The Shinigami reached out, gently brushing his fingers through some of the roaming strands of white hair that trickled down the albino's face, “I am pleased you have returned to me at last, I was beginning to believe it would never happen.”

Shiro stilled at the contact, his expression loosening to one of surprise at the borderline tenderness, his gaze shifted until he was looking into chocolatey pools, mouth opening and closing as he found his voice, “He was a strong influence, it was hard to... Remember what I wanted... Instead of what he wanted...”

“You are here now, that is what counts.” Hair was curled around his fingers and a smile was offered, “My Cero Espada. You certainly know how to make an entrance.”

Preening under the attention, his scalp tingling at the contact he stepped closer, lifting a hand and allowing his fingers to splay over the brunet's chest, “I had a good teacher...” His mood shifted, eyebrows furrowing, “I know... I know this wasn't what ya wanted. I know it wasn't me ya wanted in control. Ya wanted him... All... Orange and tanned and sexy brown eyes. I could feel the disappointment when ya first saw me out there...”

Aizen hesitated at the insight the Hollow possessed and let out a small breath, “I won't insult you by denying it. But, I speak the truth when I say I am pleased to see you. Knowing that the alternative was Ichigo's death, and your death... I think this is far better. Don't you?”

“Mm.” Shiro's laugh was a little off, but he shrugged, “Even if this ain't what ya planned for... I'm just as good at him, better even. He's slowed down by his emotions now... By his need to protect.. I don't have that. I just have instinct and desire. If ya gimme a chance... I'll prove it to ya. I'll prove I can be better than him.”

Staring down at him, the brunet Shinigami found himself momentarily lost in the treasure trove gold of the Cero's eyes, they were beautiful. Menacing. Dangerous. The promise of violence seemed written into them, as well as the promise of pleasure. He found himself as drawn to the malevolent gold, no different to how he had been drawn to the warm chestnut he was used to.

“You will have your chance, my dear Cero. You have my word.”

* * *

“Ichigo!” Byakuya sat bolt upright in bed.

Sweat was running down his neck and back as he stared with wide eyed into the darkness of the room, panting short sharp breaths as his mind caught up with him and he recognised the details of the Sexta Espada's bedroom. Groaning softly, the nobleman dropped his head into his hand, the throbbing ache in the back of his skull provided no comfort from the nightmare he had woken from.

Flinching as the door opened without warning, revealing the dishevelled blue haired Arrancar himself, azure eyes narrowed as if assessing for danger before Grimmjow plodded further into the room, flicking a light on, “You alright? I heard a yell.”

Mortified, the Kuchiki heir looked away with a scowl, “I... I'm fine. I apologise for disturbing you.”

When he didn't hear a reply, Byakuya slowly peered back around, surprised to find Grimmjow just staring at him with a bemused expression. He watched as the Espada's shoulders slumped and the man sat on the end of the bed, looking out of the bedroom balcony doors in silence.

A pressure began to build inside the raven haired man's chest, bubbling angrily to the surface until he found words tumbling free without permission, “I dreamt... I saw... Ichigo and Ulquiorra again...” Shame flooded him for admitted to it, he felt like he was exposing a weakness.

Grimmjow seemed to sigh, hunching forwards as he propped his elbows on his thighs, “It's normal. I'd be more surprised if you didn't have nightmares about it.”

“I do not... Have nightmares.” He growled, fist clenched at his side, “Nightmares... Are for children... Not for the likes of... Not for the likes of me.”

Snorting, blue eyes fixed the nobleman in place, “What, you think your special because you're a noble? Or a Shinigami? Or a Taichou? You think that protects you from your own mind? Don't make me laugh, Kuchiki. None of those things can stop you reliving the nightmares you face when you're awake. Doin' that is impossible.”

Byakuya spluttered, feeling anger burst inside him like fireworks, “What would you know of my mind?! What would you know of my living nightmares?! Or my thoughts?! Who do you think you are?!”

“Cut it out, Kuchiki. What have you got to hide here? The worst has already happened! You don't need to be ashamed of something you can't control.” Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow huffed.

Letting out an uncharacteristic growl the Kuchiki heir lunged at the Sexta Espada. He didn't know what he was doing, he knew he was wildly outmatched and underpowered but he didn't care! He shoved Grimmjow off the bed with every ounce of strength he could muster, toppling with him in a messy pile as he smacked him as hard as he could with his fist.

“You have no idea!” He yelled, struggling as he felt firm hands wrap around his wrists, “NO IDEA! YOU WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND!”

Hissing and thrashing as he felt them roll, Byakuya seethed furiously as he found himself pinned down on the hard floor, Grimmjow's brawny body pressing against him, preventing him from moving. Teeth clenched, steel eyes began to soften as his anger faded. The blue haired Arrancar did nothing. There didn't seem to be any fight in him at all. He just held him there until he was calm.

“You're right.” Grimmjow said finally, “I have no idea what you've been through. No idea what you've seen. But... Never assume I'm incapable of understandin'.”

Swallowing at the intense expression on the man's face, Byakuya let out a shaky breath, finally recovering his composure, “What... Do you mean?”

“No one knew Ulquiorra better than I did.” He said quietly, “No one knew what he was capable of... Better than I did.”

Flinching, steel eyes widened at his words, “You... You don't mean...”

Letting out a breath, Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, “What? You think just 'cause I'm bigger than him I could fight him off if he was fixed on humiliatin' me?”

“That's... That's why you went so far. With Aizen... With Harribel and Starrk... That's why you were so determined to have me removed from his care... Why you went to the effort of marking me... Why you... Why you said he deserved what he got.” The Kuchiki heir searched the face in front of him, hardly believing it, “Aizen let him get away with it? Let him... Hurt you?”

Releasing his grasp on the Shinigami's wrists, the Sexta carefully picked himself up off the floor, rubbing his jaw where he'd been punched before he folded his arms, “You think Aizen gives a shit about any of us? Have you met him? It's a long story.”

Sitting up gingerly, half embarrassed by his previous outburst, half disgusted that Aizen thought so little of his subordinates, he got to his feet and slumped down on the bed in defeat, “I'm sorry.”

“I don't want your pity-”

“Good! Because you'd never get it!” Byakuya snapped, glaring at the blue haired man, “I'm sorry... For my actions, and my attitude. You've been a gracious host, it was ill-mannered of me to throw it back in your face.”

Grimmjow chuckled softly, eyebrows lifting in amusement as he flashed a grin towards the blustering Shinigami, “Let's call it even. I'm guessin' you've been wantin' to smack me one ever since Sôkyoku.”

A reluctant tugging at the corner of his lips made the nobleman look away, “Perhaps that's true.” He paused and glanced back towards his host, “There's one thing I don't understand though... Your behaviour towards me has been... Far from what I expected. You've been polite, considerate, kind almost. Why? When we are as blatantly opposed as the sun and the moon, why have you been so kind?”

“It's late. You should try and get some more sleep.” The Arrancar said gruffly, throwing the bed covers back as he avoided eye contact.

“Grimmjow... Why have you been so kind?” He said again, taking a step towards him.

A hand rose between them, preventing the noble getting any closer as Grimmjow fixed him with a glare, “Don't... Don't make the mistake of thinkin' my actions are good. I'm the same asshole I was on Sôkyoku, the same guy who would have killed Kurosaki if you hadn't got in the way. Don't make the mistake of thinkin' I'm tame. I ain't tame. I just...”

Byakuya watched curiously as the Sexta seemed to struggle with his words. He didn't dare speak, he didn't want to put him off. He didn't want to anger him. But he was curious.

“Ulquiorra humiliated me when I was at my very lowest.” He stated suddenly, “I was kicked out of the Espada for a while... Makin' me free game for anyone interested. I was low, angry, alone. I figured, if I could stop you sinkin' that far then... Even if Ulquiorra found a way to get to you... He wouldn't win. Turns out I was protectin' the wrong person though...”

“You... You blame yourself!” Suddenly Byakuya looked aghast by the realisation, “You blame yourself for what happened to Ichigo... Grimmjow you had no way of knowing! Look at what you did when you realised... You came with me... You told Aizen... You helped! It wasn't your fault.”

“And so did you.” Grimmjow's gaze was sullen but his voice rose without warning, “You went to Aizen, you told him what you knew, you helped as well but you're still in here screamin' in your sleep because you weren't quick enough!”

Watching as the man seemed to pant for breath, Byakuya looked down as he realised he wasn't exactly wrong. He had always punished himself where Ichigo was concerned. He'd blamed himself for not recruiting him into Division Six before Aizen had snagged him. He'd blamed himself for not seeing what Aizen was like sooner. He'd blamed himself when Ichigo had been injured. He'd always blamed himself for not being quick enough.

“I shouldn't have said that.” A hard tut came from the blue haired man.

“You are correct, though.” He said simply as he sat back down, “You're right about it all. Just as you will never erase the memory of what Ulquiorra did to you... I shall never forget seeing the aftermath of what he did to Ichigo. And I should not be ashamed of the nightmares that plague me as a result of it. It's... Very Human isn't it?”

“Ironic, right?” A snort.

Byakuya felt a small smile touch his lips as he nodded, “It is ironic indeed.”

“We'll get him back, Kuchiki.” Grimmjow sat heavily on the bed beside him, hands clasped in front of him, “I don't know if that extends to gettin' you out of Las Noches or not... But... I won't rest while Shiro's in charge. I won't live my life in fear of another man who can flip at the push of a button.”

“It will be a hard fight to draw Ichigo out when he has been swallowed so deeply by that creature's madness.” He sighed, “But... I have hope.”

“Hope...” The Sexta Espada looked out at the blackened sky of Hueco Mundo, “Hope is being able to see that there's light... Despite all of the darkness.”

“Without the darkness you cannot see the stars.” Byakuya whispered.


	51. Fresh Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempting to set aside his mania, Shiro begins the unenviable task of presenting himself to the Espada and getting to know them all, with some interesting outcomes along the way.

With a scream of exuberant energy, Shiro rushed towards Nnoitra and Grimmjow with a frenzy he would normally have held back. Sparks flew as the body sized blade of Zangetsu smacked against Grimmjow's sword first and then Nnoitra's as he was forced to dive out of the way of the large scythe like Zanpakutō.

The training area was too cramped for his liking, but he was fighting two of the most destructive creatures Las Noches had to offer. He couldn't complain. Cackling as he was forced to retreat towards one of the corners as each swing and stroke of the Sexta's sword became more precise and delivered with greater speed. Eyes darting left and right as he sensed the Quinto move behind him in a pincer manoeuvrer, the albino made sure to try and keep both men in his sights at all times. He didn't dare stop paying attention for even a second.

Ducking and sliding as he watched both swords come towards him at the same time, he grinned mischievously as his slickly timed dodge earned him the sound of swearing, as the two Espada ended up hitting each other instead of him. Skidding and turning on his knees to look at them, he laughed loudly at the sight of the slice Grimmjow had on his biceps and the nice gouge Nnoitra had across his chest.

“Sloppy.” He got to his feet and put his hands on his hips, “If this is the best Las Noches has to offer then we're in big trouble.”

“Tch, yer an arrogant little shit.” Nnoitra spat, glowering with one grey eye.

“Careful, Quinto.” Grimmjow muttered, shooting a look at the taller Espada.

“Well it's true!” Scythe reverting to sword and being sheathed, Nnoitra's long arms folded moodily, “It's not our fault you were taught how to fight by Aizen himself.”

Gold eyes rolled dramatically as he sheathed Zangetsu across his back, feeling the bandages tighten obediently, “Don't sulk. Ya know, I actually kinda like sparrin' with ya both.”

Both Nnoitra and Grimmjow seemed surprised by his honesty, the albino simply shrugged and turned away, wiping some dust off his shihakusho. It was true. He'd woken from the best sleep he'd ever had to find himself brimming with energy and excitement. The idea of starting his new life as the one in charge. His first instinct had been battle, the urge to make sure his reflexes hadn't dulled over night. Who better to quell those urges than the Quinto and Sexta Espada, the two most battle hungry and bloodthirsty Arrancar around?

While he was certain Aizen wouldn't refuse him if he asked to train with him, he didn't want to pull him away from his work. He was determined to show that he could integrate into Las Noches life, he could mingle with the Espada, he could be the Cero without any issues. He wanted to prove himself.

With that thought in mind, he turned back to the pair and grinned toothily, “ Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

After a moment of silence Nnoitra let out a hefty sigh and let his arms fall to his sides, “I guess it's good to have someone around who's gonna keep me on my toes. Alright, I'll spar with you again.”

“Me too.” Grimmjow nodded once, “Maybe sometime we can see how well you fair against both our Resurrecciōn forms at the same time?”

“Bring it on!” He crowed eagerly.

“Hey, that's something I hadn't thought about...” The head of the blue haired Espada tilted curiously, “Do you have a Resurrecciōn form?”

The Cero hesitated, staring at them both, “I... Don't know...” He said honestly, “I have no Hollow hole, no previous life as a Gillian or Adjuchas... Maybe I still have a Bankai... But I don't know. We'll find out sometime.”

Shiro left the training room only a short while later, striding down the hallways with his head held high. He'd made it his mission that he would introduce himself to the Espada today. While they'd seen him fight and seen his strength that didn't mean they knew him. If he was going to lead them... As strange as that thought was, it would be a good idea to build some kind of relationship with them all.

Considering his current location within the palace, it was an easy judgement to make his way to Szayelapporo Granz's private palace next, the laboratory work space. He remembered how hard the Octavo Espada had struggled beneath the full flow of his reiatsu the day before, the way he had almost collapsed under its weight. He couldn't help but think it would be fun to torment him at least a little bit, after all, according to Aizen the scientist's lack of care for his own experimental supplies was part of the reason Ulquiorra had been able to hide his loathing for the King.

“Horse.” He said out loud, almost sounding annoyed at himself, “ _He's_ the Horse. _I'm_ the King. Gotta work on rememberin' that.”

When he pushed the laboratory door open, he was overwhelmed by the smell of chemicals. Bleach and disinfectant and noxious gas. It made him wrinkle his nose in disliking as he forced himself to go further into the clinical space. He could see a row of beds pushed up against the far wall, apparently Szayel was also a half decent healer when the need was great and the medical staff weren't prepared enough.

Eyes scanning the area, he also saw several benches and work stations brimming with paperwork, test tubes, various brightly coloured liquids in phials and bottles. He saw a few consoles, most likely for monitoring the surrounding area and maintaining data.

“How am I expected to get any work done when people keep swanning in and out of my _fucking_ laboratory?!” Szayel's snarl reached his ears before he saw the man, but as he turned and saw the pink haired Espada storm out of his side office their eyes met and the man dropped the notepad he was holding and released the strangest sound in the back of his throat.

“Ya chokin' or somethin'?” He asked nonchalantly.

“I... What... No!” The Octavo brushed his fingers through his hair and quickly retrieved his notes, spluttering softly for a moment, “You have my apologies for my rudeness... I didn't realise it was _you_ who had come to pay me a visit.”

Taking measured steps around the benches as he cast his eyes over Szayel's various experiments, the albino chuckled, “It's fine. I should have announced myself.”

“Yes, well... With that out of the way, I must ask... Is there a reason for your visit?”

“Nothin' in particular.” He shrugged, picking up a phial of bright orange liquid, he found himself annoyed by the sight of it, “I wanted to come and introduce myself properly. Yesterday was... A mess.”

“I see...” Szayel trailed off, eyes on the phial of liquid, “I hope I don't seem rude but... Could you put that down? It's rather volatile.”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Carefully putting the glass tube back where he'd found it, he folded his arms and flashed a manic grin at the man, “So, you're Szayelapporo Granz. Octavo Espada. Head Scientist, part time medic.”

“That is correct.” His glasses were nudged up his nose, a habitual action, “And, may I inquire as to your own name?”

“Ah, ya have good manners. But ya already know my name, Kuchiki told ya right?”

“That is true, however I thought it polite to ask.” Szayel chuckled, “Shiro, Cero Espada. It's a very... Glamorous title.”

Giving a playful bow, Shiro strolled across the floor towards the man, “Indeed it is. Bet everyone was pretty shocked yesterday, huh?”

“I must confess, half of us where completely unaware that there was a Cero Espada.” Whiskey coloured eyes followed his movements carefully, “I'm curious, did you always know?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, “Always knew I was strong, but I only realised what I was yesterday when I took over completely.”

“And yet you've had no adjustment period to come to terms with it, just... Ploughing on with your day to day life. It's very impressive.” Szayel fixed him with a wide smile, it was a little unsettling, “I'm sure someone such as yourself would find it a compliment for me to confess... Your battle yesterday was terrifying.”

Shiro trailed his fingers along the edge of the scientist's notebook, giggling softly at his comment, “Terrifying? I thought it was fun.”

“Yes, but your injuries were... Severe. Your high speed regeneration is enviable.” Eyes followed the movement of his fingers, “You are clearly very gifted. It's no wonder you are the Cero.”

Raising an eyebrow as he looked at the Octavo, scanning his face as he considered his words, the albino dropped his hand to his side, “And yer clearly gifted as well Szayel, yer experiments are fascinatin'. I was wonderin' if I'd be welcome to come back some time and watch ya work, not in a creepy way but... I'm interested to see more of what ya do.”

Szayel seemed surprised by his interest, “I had no idea you were a keen scientist yourself, I wish you had said so earlier! By all means you may return whenever you wish, I shall try and rustle up something exciting for your return.”

Shiro was content with the idea of that, “Sounds good. In which case... I should let you get back to work. It was good to meet ya properly, Octavo.”

“It was... Surprisingly pleasant to meet you too, Shiro.” There was a curt bow of the head before Szayel cautiously backed away to a safe distance and disappeared back inside his office.

The albino watched the door shut and bit his bottom lip to stop himself laughing. Through their entire conversation the Octavo's reiatsu had been quivering and recoiling. Fear. He could almost taste it on his tongue as he sucked in a breath. Szayel was smart, probably one of the smartest Espada and that was made all the more tangible by his well placed caution around someone so much stronger than he was.

With that thought in mind, and a lingering glance at the 'volatile' orange phial, Shiro left the laboratory in search of his next target. As he walked, he considered who he should introduce himself to next. He had dealt with the Octavo, the Sexta and the Quinto. That left Zommari the Séptima, Harribel the Tres, Barragan the Segunda and Starrk the Primera.

He found himself briefly thinking back to the moment the Espada had arrived to witness his battle with Ulquiorra, Starrk's appearance had interested him the most. He could feel the man's power and strength, he could feel the depths of his Soul and upon seeing his green haired partner he had known they were two sides of the same Soul just like him and...

Stopping in the middle of the corridor, Shiro felt his smile slide off his face as his eyebrows furrowed. There was a strange uncomfortable churning in his belly. Once again he found himself wondering if it would ever be possible for them to coexist. To live separately as well as together. Could they be free to live their own lives? Two different bodies? Two different minds? Could he pursue what he wanted while Ichigo did the same?

Ichigo loved Byakuya... More than anything in the world. But _he_ loved Aizen. He wanted to stay by his side, loyal, helpful, appreciated. Was there any way... No matter how small... That they could...

“Stop it!” He grabbed his head suddenly, eyes wide as he let out a choked gargle from the back of his throat, hands quaking as for the most fleeting second the blackness in his eyes began to recoil to reveal white, “ _Stop it._ ”

He didn't need Ichigo. He didn't need anyone.

Blackness overtook white again and he felt his breathing even out, lowering his hands from his head, “Adjustment period... That's what I need... Szayel was right, I-I had a big day yesterday... And launched straight into things today. I need to pace myself. Gotta go steady. Don't wanna burn out...”

The Cero Espada decided with a nod to himself, that Starrk would be his last visit for the day. There was no use pushing himself too far too fast, he had to play the long game. Had to show he was up to it. Had to show Aizen that he was capable. Tiredness would make it harder for him to reign in the madness and mania that brewed beneath the surface of his skin. It was fine if it slipped out in battle, it was fine if it slipped out in bed, but while he was trying to make a good impression upon the other Espada... He couldn't afford to lose it.

With renewed determination in his step, the albino headed to the higher floors of the palace where he could sense Starrk's reiatsu lingering. He had already learned that each Espada had their own miniature palace, such as Szayel's laboratory and Aaroniero's dark tower, but they also had private rooms on the same floor as the King's Suite. It appeared that Starrk rarely left his own private room.

As he prowled towards the Primera's room, his gaze briefly turned towards the door into Grimmjow's quarters. While he could sense that the Sexta was absent, he knew Byakuya Kuchiki was behind that door. He knew the Sexta was the Shinigami's current guardian. It would be so easy to reach out, open the door and come face to face with steel grey eyes and sleek raven locks of hair.

It was too soon. Shiro's gold eyes turned forwards again as he continued towards Starrk's reiatsu. It was too soon to risk coming face to face with Byakuya, too soon to risk Ichigo surfacing because of his presence, too soon... He wouldn't risk his control slipping for even a moment.

As ridiculous as it felt, he was relieved when he reached the Primera's room. Squinting, he was sure he heard snoring coming from inside and stifled a chuckle as he knocked hard on the door. Shiro heard the telltale snort of someone who'd been woken up with a start and held a hand to his mouth to hide the amused grin that was spreading without permission.

The door opened abruptly and gold met cool blue-grey. Starrk looked surprised to see him and blinked a few times, apparently trying to clear the tiredness from his eyes. A gloved hand rose and fingers dived through dishevelled brown hair. Shiro was struck by the Primera's good looks, recalling how the day before Ichigo had scolded him for staring for too long.

Clearing his throat at the thought, Shiro dropped his hands to his sides, “Sorry for intrudin' and wakin' ya up.” He could have slapped himself for that being the first thing he said.

“It's no trouble, my friend. Do you need help?” The Primera's deep baritone was oddly comforting as it rumbled between them.

“No... Not really... I mean...” He snapped his mouth shut as his words jumbled and spewed out without coordination, he ground his teeth in annoyance and tried again, “I've been tryin' to meet all the Espada today. I wondered if ya would mind chattin' for a while. Ya all have the advantage of havin' been together for a while. I wanna get to know ya all so we can work together.”

Starrk's eyes seemed to trace his expression curiously, one eyebrow slightly raised before he released a loud yawn and stepped away from the door, gesturing for him to come in, “I've got some time.”

Shiro stepped past him, glancing around curiously. It was a big room, spacious but simple. There was a bare minimum of furniture, next to no decorations. A round dining table sat in the corner of the living room, a plain green couch and a small coffee table. He saw the open door that lead into the kitchen, the closed door to the bathroom. Blinking as Starrk seemingly ignored all the options presented to them and instead went through a third door, Shiro followed with interest, staring as they appeared to enter the Primera's bedroom.

Except... There was no bed. Instead, an insane and tatty pile of green cushions spread across the wooden floor in no recognisable pattern. The albino immediately noticed the green haired girl curled up towards the back of the pile, fast asleep and drooling. She didn't even stir when Starrk flopped down near her and stretched out with another large yawn.

“This is Lilynette.” The Primera waved a lazy hand towards the girl, “She's my Fracción.”

Shiro fixed his eyes on the girl again, she felt fragile and weak compared to him but there was still no mistaking their connection, “More than that, though, ain't she?” He sat down on the other side of the pile, leaning back as he sank into the soft cushions.

“Ah you have keen senses, my friend.” A small smile was offered, “Perhaps because you too have similar experience with our... State.”

“So I was right, ya used to be the same person? Like me and...” His eyes narrowed a little, “What happened to ya?”

Starrk shrugged, “You know the burden of living with great power, we were unable to contain it and used to kill Hollows we encountered with our presence alone. We were lonely, and wished to be weaker so we could at least travel in a group. Eventually, we split our Soul into two so that we would never be alone again.”

The albino's mouth fell open at his story, sitting forwards so he could sling his arms around his knees, “I didn't know that was possible... Would have made my life a lot fuckin' easier.”

“Is it not possible for you?” The other Espada asked, his tone was careful and reserved but polite, he didn't seem afraid like Szayel or jealous like Nnoitra, he seemed... Tired.

Shiro looked away from his scrutiny, feeling those blue-grey eyes following his expressions, he felt like the Primera was dissecting him, “Don't know. Don't care. Closest I got was appearing beside _him_... Started off like a ghost but after a while I was able to appear as clearly as ya are now. Couldn't stay out for too long though, took too much energy... Too much effort.”

“Your case sound unique, my friend, I wish I had advice to offer.” There was a long yawn and a stretch to follow, “Lilynette grows annoyed by my attitude but... Anything which does not bring you joy when you exert the effort to do it... Is not worth the effort to begin with.”

“Hm.” He grunted and chuckled as he flopped back against the comfortable pile of softness, “But I feel like ya don't think many things are worth the effort, right? Ya like a good nap and peace. That ain't really the attitude of the Primera Espada.”

“And that,” Starrk smirked faintly and covered his eyes with his arm, “Is why I delegate to Barragan and Harribel. Though I suspect I will rarely even need to do that now, with your presence. Cero Espada... That's a whole lot of responsibility I don't even want to think about.”

Breaking into a grin at the man's unflinching personality, Shiro felt himself relaxing a little. Starrk was slothful beyond measure, reluctant and unmotivated but he was intelligent. Shiro liked him. He found his attitude refreshing, and his lack of fear was... Kind of nice.

“May I ask you something, my friend?” Starrk's voice surprised him, as did the sudden serious look in his eyes as he looked over.

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Your reiatsu is incredible, in amount and in weight. I fear the pressure would kill many weaker Hollows within seconds. But it is mangled, torrential and fierce. Yesterday I witnessed your madness and your wildness, as did the other Espada. I find myself wondering...” The man trailed off for a long moment as if thinking hard, “How are you resisting the urge to fight and kill? You seemed consumed by it yesterday.”

Shiro made a sound in the back of his throat and shrugged, peering off around the room as he picked at his shihakusho, “Well... I guess... Aizen-sama. I gotta prove that I'm worth the effort. I ain't what he planned for... So I've gotta make it work out. Can't do that by killin' everyone, can I?”

“I see.” Starrk's tone and expression didn't change as he rested back down, but his breathing began to slow, “If I might offer some advice though... Find something you want to do for yourself, don't spend the rest of your life living for someone else.”

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a snore, blinking in surprise at how fast the Primera had fallen asleep. The man really was full of surprises. Sighing softly, Shiro prepared to get up and find his next victim, he felt like he could manage a few more visits now he'd experienced the calm of Starrk's nature. He would probably approach Harribel next, she seemed more pleasant than Barragan and Zommari. At the same time... The cushions were really comfortable. And warm. And Starrk's presence was very calming. And very... Welcoming...

Shiro was asleep before his head made contact with the cushions.


	52. The Plunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's ventures to meet the Espada has done little to quell his restless, and in a fitful need for a challenge he finally summons the courage to visit Aizen.

With a sigh, the Cero threw himself back onto the leather couch in his private chambers, staring at the walls. From what he had seen, his quarters were the biggest of all the Espada, most likely due to his rank. However, his room also resided closest to Aizen's, he wasn't sure if it was on purpose or by chance.

The room was entirely white, but with occasional flares of gold and black that appealed to him on an instinctual basis, bringing a low purr from the depths of his chest whenever he thought about it. This room had been designed for him. It was his colour scheme. Not Ichigo's. Red and orange, while being a pet peeve of his counterpart, was almost always his theme of choice.

His bed was the most plush thing he'd ever laid on in his life, he felt like he sank into its depths and was swallowed almost entirely to the point he never wanted to get back out. But the same couldn't be said for the rest of the room. It was perfect, it was comfortable and it was entirely his and yet if he spent any longer than a few minutes there he felt like he would explode. Boredom. Excitement. He grew too restless, he couldn't stand to sit around doing nothing.

It had been a few days since his encounters with Grimmjow and Nnoitra, Szayel, and Starrk. He had been unable to meet with Harribel, she had been too busy tending to the care of those held in the detention centre. From the murmurs he'd overheard from her Fracción, it appeared Renji was finally on the mend. Or at the very least, he was no longer in danger of dying any time soon. He was proud that he felt neither relief nor concern. The redhead wasn't _his_ best friend. He wasn't _his_ concern.

Shiro had successfully met with Zommari but as expected the Séptima Espada held little interest for him. He was... Too calm. Too tranquil. Too at peace. It was unsettling to be around. Made his hair stand on end. One visit was enough for a lifetime. He'd left the Séptima's palace with some riveting meditation techniques that he was absolutely never going to try.

Springing up from the couch, Shiro turned on the spot, hands clasped over his mouth as he tried to think of something to do. Something to entertain his time. He was reluctant to meet with Barragan, he was arrogant and old and ill-mannered. He had not forgotten about being called an 'ant' by the Segunda.

Barragan's attitude was Starrk's fault really. If the Primera was more willing to step up and perform his duties like he was supposed to, instead of delegating, then Barragan wouldn't have ideas above his station. Because he _clearly_ believed his authority superseded that of the Cero and the Primera.

Sighing softly, he made up his mind. He had avoided Aizen for days, he'd been so set on proving he could stand on his own two feet he had refused to allow himself to go near the King's Suite. He wanted to see him. Maybe he would finally request that sparring match, additional training.

As he committed to the idea, Shiro hurried into the en-suite bathroom to make sure he looked presentable. The full body length mirror in the corner of the room was elegant and Gothic, swirling black metal work with jagged horns and clawed feet. It brought his trade mark manic grin to his face just looking at it.

Taking a breath, the Cero stepped up to the reflective glass. He avoided looking at his reflection too often, he didn't like how much he looked like... It was an unfortunate side effect of who and what he was and his albinism didn't set him apart from his polychromatic partner as much as he would have liked it to.

He was beautiful though. He wasn't vain, confident yes but he knew how people's eyes followed him across rooms. Just like they had with the other half of his being. High, proud cheekbones almost seemed chiselled by an artist, his white skin was like fine China or alabaster, no blemishes; no marks besides what was meant to be there. Soft, smooth. Crafted. He liked his eyes the best, because they were _so_ different. The inky blackness of his sclera made his startling gold irises seem all the brighter, like glittering treasure glinting out of a dark cavern. They were wild, carefree but calculating and intelligent. Snowy white hair was still waist length, long and thick and silky to the touch but still with that messy truss of spikes on top of his head and around his face.

His eyes shifted towards his temple and a low growl escaped pursed lips. The single kenseikan Byakuya had gifted to Ichigo remained nestled in place. He'd tried to remove it the very same day he'd taken control. He had tried and tried and tried but it wouldn't budge. It was only after a burst of fitful, angry tears and a fist through a wall that Aizen had regretfully explained that the kenseikan had fused to his body and become his mask remnant, fragile material had hardened to bone. Shiro was under no illusions that it was probably Ichigo's idea of a sick joke, a permanent reminder.

Releasing a huff, Shiro tried to rearrange his hair to conceal the eyesore but quickly gave up. It was no use. The only benefit was that the kenseikan was as white as the rest of him, so it didn't stand out too prominently.

Turning on the spot, he swept back out of the bathroom, making sure the sash around his waist was tied securely before he left his room. The click of the door closing behind him was oddly relieving, knowing he wasn't contained within those walls. He felt his restlessness dim almost immediately.

He turned left, once again glad that his room was the closest to the King's Suite as his trip took only a matter of seconds. Shiro hesitated as he stared at the large doors, his heartbeat suddenly picking up at the thought of going in and requesting something of Aizen. Was it even his place to do so? Training with the man had always been Ichigo's past time, he'd never been given the chance... Was Aizen even interested in training him? Or sparring with him? Or spending time with him? Was Aizen interested... In him?

Shoulders slumping as a small sigh escaped his lips, the Cero looked down at his hands, teeth tugging at his bottom lip restlessly. Was it foolish to have believed they'd pick up where Ichigo had left off? He wasn't Ichigo... They were two different people despite all evidence to the contrary. Maybe Aizen had only ever put up with him because of Ichigo...

He could dye his hair. He could paint his skin. But he would never be Ichigo.

“What am I doin' here?” He breathed.

Zangetsu wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't even allow him within the Inner World. A great wall had been erected to keep him out. The stupid Zanpakutō was probably trying to find Ichigo. Trying to help him, to bring him back. Fat chance.

Ichigo's voice had been silenced when Ulquiorra had been defeated, he'd made sure of it. Snuffed him out, buried him so deep he'd never see the light of day again, drowned him so far beneath the water he'd never breathe again.

He wasn't used to being alone in his own head. It was... Lonely.

Shiro's gaze snapped up as the doors opened suddenly, and he took a hasty step back as his nerves kicked up a notch at the sight of the brunet Shinigami he'd come to see. Dark eyes were staring at him curiously, one perfect eyebrow quirked. Aizen was smirking.

“Tell me, had I not come to open the door... Would you have stayed out here all day?” Came the amused question.

“Probably.” He muttered, looking away awkwardly.

Warm fingers tucked under Shiro's chin, drawing his attention back towards his creator, “What is troubling you?”

Realising there was no backing out now, he stood a little straighter, “I... I'm bored. I wanted to come and ask if ya wanted to spar with me? Or, give me some extra trainin'?”

Aizen looked surprised, apparently that request was the very last thing he had expected to hear in response to his question. The brunet sucked in a breath and glanced back towards his desk, “I fear I have a lot of work to be getting on with. Was your sparring session with the Sexta and Quinto unsatisfactory?”

“It was fine but...” Shiro hesitated, eyes trying to look anywhere but the other man's face, “Well... They aren't you.”

“I see. It is understandable I suppose, they are both far weaker than yourself. I suspect Starrk would entertain you however getting him to fight is always something of an uphill battle in itself.” The brunet hummed.

“I understand though, yer too busy. It was a long shot anyway-”

“I believe I can spare you some time.” Aizen interrupted him softly.

“- I'm sorry for interruptin' whatever ya were doing, Aizen-sama. I'll let ya get back to... Wait... What?” Shiro stared up at him, blinking.

The smallest of chuckles escaped the lord of Las Noches, “I said I can spare you some time. It would be rude to refuse you, especially when no one else here can aptly provide the challenge you require.”

“Thanks!” He exclaimed, cursing himself for getting so excited so quickly, he looked away shyly as his face flushed, “I mean... That would be great.”

“We will use the training room on this floor, it is reserved for my own use normally, however Szayel created it to be... Self repairing. So, should we cause too much damage the room with repair itself with no need for concern.” Aizen closed the doors to the King's Suite behind him and swept further down the corridor, leading Shiro towards a large black door he hadn't noticed before.

“A self... Repairing room? He can do that?”

“I do believe Szayel is capable of almost anything.” Came the reply as the Shinigami unlocked the door and allowed them inside.

Shiro's eyes scanned the room curiously, it was huge. To some degree it reminded him of Urahara's hidden basement, only larger and scattered with tall red pillars and the occasional flash of foliage. There was another false sky overhead, but it seemed set perpetually to show a sunrise or sunset, Fingers brushing against some of the leaves on a nearby bush, the albino let out a cackle of disbelief at just how creative Szayel could be.

“You are impressed.” Aizen commented, circling around him slowly until he was stood in front of him.

“I am.” He agreed, eyes flicking up to the brown ones which were watching him so closely, “Swords? Or fists?”

“Swords.” The brunet replied as if it was obvious.

“Promise you won't use your Shikai.” Shiro folded his arms stubbornly.

If Aizen was annoyed at the request he didn't show it, and instead released a soft laugh as he reached for his blade, “You have my word, my dear Cero, I will not be using my Shikai against you. It would be a waste against someone who has been loyal to me from the beginning.”

A grin stretched across pale lips as he unsheathed Zangetsu in response, hearing the slow clawing of steel as Kyoka Suigetsu was flourished. His blood was already pumping faster, his heart skipping beats with exhilaration. He hadn't believed for one moment Aizen would actually consent to sparring, but now they were here face to face; blade to blade... He couldn't help but let his pleasure show.

They circled one and other, feet drawing slowly across the sandy outcrop as their eyes fixed into a deadly glare. Their stances weren't so different, after all Shiro fought with everything Ichigo had ever learned from the brunet. Both of his pale hands clasped the rigid hilt of his body sized blade, while only one of Aizen's held his katana aloft. Their biggest differences were sword size and weight. While Aizen would move more freely, swiftly and deftly Shiro would be forced to take slow and steady actions, deflecting and dodging until an opening became available.

At least, that's what he'd do if he didn't also want to enjoy himself.

Shiro lunged and Aizen parried the blow with ease, knocking the large blade aside with a single swing. The Shinigami fought back, each sword stroke coming down with ease against the deflecting arcs of the Hollow's blade. Their movements sped up, the clanging of metal on metal, the sparks that scattered between them were barely more than a distraction, but it was one they were used to ignoring.

The two men were almost flying across the sandy, rocky terrain of the room, they kept their balance, kept their posture and never once came close to stumbling. It was so reminiscent of what Shiro remembered of the training sessions Ichigo had gone through, he knew every move with a practised ease that flowed from the core of his very being. But the adrenaline still rushed forth.

Shiro's movements were different to Ichigo's, they were more jagged and less forgiving, each lash and strike as meaningful as the last and it showed. He had successfully managed to cut Aizen's arm with one of his attacks, although he wasn't sure which one, he could see the first darkening of redness seeping through the white sleeve of the Shinigami's coat. Aizen didn't seem bothered, and in quick succession gained his revenge with a full length cut along the albino's ribs.

They moved with raging finesse, fluidity of each move striking at odds with the heat of the battle. Shiro knew Aizen was playing with him, he knew the man could end it in a second if he wanted to. He hadn't grown so strong that he could defeat the strongest Shinigami to have ever lived. It would be arrogance to assume as much.

Grunting in discomfort, the Cero hit the ground with an eruption of pain in his gut. A well timed kick when his mind had wandered. He rolled to the side as Kyoka Suigetsu impaled the ground where his head had just been. Flinging himself up and out of the way as another large swing was made, he let out a mirthful cackle as he tackled Aizen directly. Zangetsu discarded, arms around the man's middle he managed to uproot him and throw him down.

Panting sharply as he stepped back, watching as Aizen eyed him with something between amusement and irritation, “What? Ya expectin' me to play fair or somethin'?!” He laughed.

“I suppose that would be a foolish notion.”

Shiro's eyes widened suddenly when the brunet disappeared, his Shunpo was so fast. But Kyoka Suigetsu was stabbed into the sand where Aizen had just been, which meant...

He ducked the swing that would have connected with his jaw, darting back as he lifted his fists, blocking two- three more punches. They were bruising and he felt his muscles aching in complaint as he darted to the side, lurching forwards as he dropped and kicked a leg out, trying to sweep Aizen off his feet. He was sure he could see the man smiling. He missed, taking a hit to the shoulder that left him staggering back.

The albino was being driven back, he could tell by the way the room changed. He didn't dare glance behind in case Aizen took advantage of that fact, but his senses were telling him he was nearly at the wall. They continued to exchange blows, rarely managing to make contact but fast enough to keep the adrenaline surging. Shiro was having fun. He didn't have to worry about holding back or reserving his strength. Aizen was stronger than him. Aizen could take it.

Shiro used Sonido and blasted towards the brunet, he mimicked one of the attacks he had used against Ulquiorra as he wound his legs around the Shinigami's waist and grabbed at his arms; eyes widening as he was intercepted, his own wrists becoming ensnared in the clutches of strong hands as his back struck the wall and dragged a gasp of pain from his lips.

Neither of them moved. Shiro hardly dared to breath as he realised how close his face was to Aizen's. He could feel the warmth of the Shinigami's breath rolling across his skin, the heat of his palms around pale wrists as his arms were pinned above his head. Shiro's eyes searched Aizen's, nervous, tentative, uncertain. There were no answers in the depths of dark brown, no reassurances, no promises.

His heart was pounding so hard against his breastbone he was sure it was audible, although the deafening rush of blood in his ears made him less certain. He could feel warmth rising in his cheeks, his stomach was tying itself in knots.

Gulping silently, he leaned forwards and closed the distance. His eyes slipped shut as he pressed a shy, tentative kiss against Aizen's lips. The moment might have lasted forever, or it might have been less than seconds but he pulled back when he felt no response and found himself looking anywhere but at the man in front of him.

“Sorry... I... I got caught up in the moment,” he muttered as his heart sank, “Ya can let me go, I'll uh... I'm sure ya have other stuff to do, ya don't wanna be-”

Shiro was silenced by the roughness of the kiss against his lips, his eyes widening in surprise before fluttering closed as he felt a demanding tongue forcing its way into his mouth. A quiet moan was dragged from him as their tongues tangled in an urgent battle. Aizen's lips felt hungry against his own, he was released from his grasp and immediately sank his fingers through the soft brunet locks of hair of the man before him, back arching as he felt strong hands gripping his legs, keeping them in place.

His head was spinning with more thoughts than he could handle, he could feel his reiatsu spiralling and clashing against Aizen's with little reluctance or resistance. He felt elation and excitement and exhilaration all at the same time, his head light as he forgot entirely how to breathe. This... This was everything he had wanted. Everything he had hoped for. Everything he had waited for.

It was only when Aizen parted their lips that Shiro remembered to draw breath, as shaky and shallow as it was. His face was flushed when he opened his eyes, his pupils dilated with desire and arousal.

“Forgive me.” The brunet whispered against his lips, “I would have you here and now, but I fear we are about to be interrupted.”

He barely concealed the groan at the promise in his voice, when he too sensed the approaching reiatsu of the Segunda Espada, Shiro bit his lip and let out a soft sigh, “We can just think of it as extended fore play, I guess.”

“That notion assumes I intend to pick this up where we are leaving off.” Aizen's smirk was teasing as he lowered the albino's legs to the floor and stepped away.

“Cruel.” The Cero shook his head, “Ya really are cruel.”

“Have you ever known me be anything else?”

“No.” He mused, toothy smile stretching wide, “And I'd never ask ya to be anythin' else either.”

Aizen looked stunned for a moment, but the expression was soon concealed as he retrieved Kyoka Suigetsu from her resting place and sheathed the blade at his side. Shiro walked past and grabbed Zangetsu, slinging the sword over his back before he looked down and examined the shallow wound across his hip. It was already healing.

“You fought well.” Aizen's hand rested on his lower back for a fleeting second before the touch was gone and the man was striding towards the entrance where Barragan's reiatsu was hovering, waiting for them.

“Thank you, Aizen-sama.” He bowed his head, following after him obediently, his hands clasped behind his back comfortably.

As the training room was sealed shut behind them, Shiro finally set eyes on the large form of the Segunda Espada. Barragan seemed to match his height, though he suspected the Segunda might have been taller before his back had begun to curve with age. Tilting his head back slightly as he found himself being inspected in return, he refused to back down or look away. He was sure the older Hollow's reiatsu was terrifying to some, but to him it was little more than a dark cloud on a stormy day. A challenge proposed by someone tired and weary.

“We shall retire to the King's Suite to hear your report, Barragan.” Aizen's voice was formal again, unlike the relaxed tones of the training room, but the heat was still lingering in his eyes.

“Of course.” A curt nod of the head and the albino was happy to finally disengage from his staring contest with the other Espada as he turned on his heel and walked ahead of the pair.

Shiro could hear the two men walking behind him, he could still feel Barragan's eye on the back of his head, drilling a hole into his skull. It raised irritation, feeling his fingers twitch at his sides as the desire to demand an explanation became harder to ignore.

Sucking in a calming breath, he ran his tongue across his teeth and pushed his temper aside. It wouldn't do him, Barragan or Las Noches any good to become impatient and angry. He couldn't imagine Aizen forgiving him if he accidentally destroyed the King's Suite with a single swing of his sword. And yet, just as the thought occurred to him Barragan's voice reached his ears with startling clarity and he found his grasp on his self control becoming dangerously lax.

“I hear you have ventured to meet and greet every Espada other than myself, Cero, and yet even now when we come face to face you say nothing. Thought you might have had better manners than that, coming from Soul Society.”

He closed his eyes, willing his tongue to stay behind his teeth. He could smell the challenge, the lacklustre jibe to make him rear his head. He wouldn't fall for it. He wouldn't show himself up.

“Barragan Louisenbairn is my name, if you were interested, ant. And if there is no interest in my name, feel free to call me 'your majesty' as my Fracción do.” The gruff pitch of the older Hollow's voice seemed designed to rile and annoy.

“Why?” Shiro scoffed suddenly, looking over his shoulder at the other Espada with narrowed eyes, “Why in the name of Hell would I call ya that?”

Barragan's gaze turned to the silent Shinigami at his side, “Does he not know who I am? Do you teach your pets so little these days, Aizen-sama?”

The albino saw the slight twitch at the corner of Aizen's eyes, the tension in his shoulders but it was nothing to match the sudden flare of anger within his own body as he stopped moving and turned to face the Segunda, “If ya are askin', am I aware that ya were once the... 'Undisputed' king of Hueco Mundo then the answer is yes, I know that. If ya are askin', am I aware that ya were the original ruler of Las Noches then the answer is yes, I know that too.”

“Shiro.” Aizen's voice was a subtle warning.

He glanced at the brunet and then glowered back at the Espada, “If ya are askin' why I still refuse to call ya 'majesty' despite knowin' what I know then the answer is simple. Ya lost yer throne. Ya lost yer palace. Ya lost yer court. As far as I'm concerned there is only _one_ king in Hueco Mundo. And it ain't Barragan Louisenbairn.”

“And who would that be, ant?” Single eye narrowed with fury, one of Barragan's hands shout out and grabbed a fistful of white shihakusho, “You?”

Letting out a burst of manic laughter, Shiro offered a wide smile of disbelief, “Ya stupid or somethin'? I mean _him_.” He pointed at Aizen.

Something seemed to snap inside Barragan at his answer and the albino found himself pinned up against the wall by a hand around his throat, fingers gripping tightly at his skin. The Cero Espada barely flinched, body reacting on its own from the pulsing instinct coursing through him. Shiro grabbed Barragan's wrist with one hand and with the other forced his elbow joint to dislocate.

The sickening crunch of bones breaking merely called to the bloodlust and as soon as his feet hit the floor, Shiro threw his head forwards, smashing his skull against Barragan's face with as much force as he could muster.

He lunged, gasping in surprise when strong hands grabbed his arms and hauled him back. He could smell Aizen's scent washing over him, and at the same time watched as Starrk appeared in a loud crackle of Sonido and rested a hand on the Segunda's shoulder.

“Enough, Barragan.” The Primera stared down at him meaningfully.

“I will not suffer this insult!” The older Hollow barked, snarling at Shiro.

“Do not... Attack him again.” Aizen's voice was a quiet whisper in his ear but it was enough to make the albino second guess his primal urges.

Shiro felt his muscles slacken and he stopped struggling. As his breathing slowed and the adrenaline wore away, he noticed Starrk's gaze and was sure that for a fleeting moment he saw displeasure. For some reason he felt a pang of sadness at that look and lowered his sights to the ground in front of him.

“Starrk will be accompanying you back to your palace, Barragan. You will remain there for the rest of the day. Whatever business you had with me will wait.” The surety in Aizen's tone made the Segunda growl and concede, “Shiro... Please return to your room and get cleaned up.”

As he felt those strong hands release him, the albino glanced up at the brunet. There was no anger in his eyes, no disappointment, but there was something lingering in those chocolate brown orbs that he couldn't quite read.

“Yes, Aizen-sama.” He shot Barragan a deathly glare as he passed him on the way to his room, slamming the door shut behind him as he turned the key in the lock.

Shiro froze, back against the wooden door as he found himself staring at the same four walls he had been desperate to escape only a short time ago. Letting out a slow breath, his smile dropped from his lips and turned into a frown as he slid down until his buttocks hit the floor. Arms wrapping around his legs as he hugged them into his chest, the Cero Espada felt a wave of restless discontent flood his senses.

“Back where I started.” He muttered.

* * *

Gasping, Byakuya threw the bed covers back and jumped out of bed. His eyes were wide and frantic as sweat dripped down his face, slicking some of his hair to his skin. One hand clutching his chest, the nobleman felt his cheeks burn with humiliation as he realised it had just been a dream. Just another nightmare.

Hanging his head, the Kuchiki heir dug his fingers into the loose material of his sleepwear. It was a simple brown yukata, Grimmjow had allowed him to borrow it for comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched tightly as he berated himself for allowing another nightmare to creep up on him. To afflict him so strongly.

Flinching when he felt two hands come to rest on his shoulders, the raven haired Shinigami released a reluctant breath as he was forced to acknowledge the presence of the blue haired Arrancar who was stood right behind him. He hadn't even heard him enter the room.

“Another one?” Grimmjow's voice was low, sleepy.

Byakuya felt terrible to know he had woken him again, it had become a common occurrence, “I am afraid so. My apologies for-”

“Shut up.” He could almost hear the eye roll, “I thought we were past the dumb apologies for shit you can't control.”

He couldn't bring himself to argue and just nodded instead. He was so tired, it was unbelievable. In fact, at this point Byakuya almost believed he had slept better while chained to the wall by Ulquiorra, instead of suffering the horrific dreams of Ichigo's agony.

“Get back in bed before you catch your death. It's cold tonight.”

The nobleman didn't have the energy to resist as he was forced back under the covers, his body melting back down into the mattress as he stared up at Grimmjow. The gentle side of the Sexta's personality seemed to be far more prominent now than it had before, he merely hoped the man didn't suffer any aggravation from the other Espada for his trouble.

“Right, I'm gonna help you get a decent sleep.” The blue haired Arrancar prowled around to the other side of the bed and kicked his sandals off as he slid onto the bed along the side noble, Grimmjow was careful to remain on top of the covers.

“What are you doing?” Byakuya frowned.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to violate you in your sleep.” An eye roll was offered again as Grimmjow pulled the Shinigami into his arms, one of his hands coming to rest on top of Byakuya's head, “It's an old ritual... Nothing special but it will let you sleep.”

Steel eyes seemed confused, but too tired to debate what was going to happen, in fact he was so tired he couldn't stop his next words slipping free, “I trust you.”

The Sexta's breath caught in his throat, but he refrained from reacting to his words any more than that, “I'm gonna send a small pulse of my reiatsu through you, startin' at your head. It'll work its way down. It'll act as a ward, keepin' away nightmares and restlessness. I ain't doin' this every night so enjoy it while it lasts.”

Byakuya closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax. He was nervous about such a 'ritual' being performed on him but he knew his current lack of sleep would only end up causing him more harm than good if they didn't take some form of precaution.

He felt the thrum of reiatsu as it trickled over his scalp, it felt warm like firm fingers massaging intricate patterns into his hairline, weaving down his face, down his neck and his throat. Tingling, tickling, swirling energy strummed a gentle wave through his chest, tracing its way around his organs and his muscles, diving lower across his stomach and hips. He felt numb, like his body wasn't entirely his own. Like he was sinking, and rising at the same time.

“Relax, Byakuya. Let it take you. Go with it.” Grimmjow's voice was distant, little more than an echo on the breeze.

Byakuya felt his hands hit the bed on either side of his body, and he felt the heat of the Espada's taut form pressing against him, embracing him, fingers never straying from the top of his head or his chest where the other hand had come to rest. The heat, the warmth, the soft sinking feeling of waves crashing against rocks as the wind whistled through cherry blossoms overhead. He was gone. And it felt good.


	53. To Do Whatever It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimmjow has a plan, its risky and foolish and probably won't work, but he confides his idea to Byakuya regardless. But plans rarely go right around the Cero Espada.

Byakuya yawned widely as he began to wake, he felt fantastic. Better than he had for some time. His mind felt rested, his body restored, his energy bubbling beneath the surface. His eyes flashed open as he remembered the reason for his decent sleep and he immediately felt his face flush with heat as he found himself curled up against Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

“Ah, you're awake. About time too.” The Sexta seemed unperturbed by his startled reaction as he slowly removed his cramping arms from around the Shinigami and sat up to stretch, “You feelin' okay?”

“Yes.” He said stiffly, looking away awkwardly as the guilt of having slept beside someone other than his fiancé scorned him like the fury of a thousand suns.

“Good. You fight feel a bit dizzy when you first get out of bed, that's just the reaction to my reiatsu leavin' your body. Nothin' to worry about.” Grimmjow was out of bed and combing his fingers through his rebellious blue hair, “I reckon we should get you cleaned up though... You fell asleep with those fuckin' hair things in again. You know I hate untanglin' them right?”

“Sorry.” He muttered, standing gingerly as he adjusted his yukata around his body a little more securely. Byakuya felt some of the dizziness the Arrancar had described, but it wasn't severe and he was easily able to amble towards the en-suite bathroom.

“Ah, whatever. Gives me somethin' to do I guess.” The Espada followed him, forcing him to sit on the stool in the corner of the room, “So, last night... Same dream or different one?”

“Same one.” Byakuya closed his eyes, feeling the Sexta's fingers working into his hair and slowly unclipping long locks from where they had become tangled and knotted with his kenseikan, “But also different...”

“Oh? What happened?”

His arms folded over his chest as he let the other man work, trying to make himself relax, “I saw Ichigo transform again, relived Shiro's battle with Ulquiorra... But then I saw Ichigo. It was like he was sinking. Drowning. He was trapped in a never ending ocean so dark... He seemed peaceful, like he was asleep but... He still bore the marks of his attack. I tried to reach him, but no matter how close I seemed to get he just sank further.”

Grimmjow clicked his tongue against his teeth, placing the hair ornaments on the sink one by one, “Sounds pretty shit. And probably not far from the truth.”

“What do you mean?” Steel eyes flickered open, staring up at azure ones.

“Shiro... Sometimes he talks about what it was like after he was first created. He said it was like bein' asleep for years and years, wakin' for fleetin' moments before sinkin' again. He described it like an ocean.” There was a small shrug as the man began running a brush through the noble's long locks of hair, “I know you have your master plan... I know we're workin' towards that but...”

“But what?”

“Well... After sparrin' with him I came up with an idea. It's small, kinda awkward and probably wouldn't work.” Grimmjow rubbed the segment mask remanent on his face, fingers dipping between the sharp looking teeth, “Shiro seems... Possessive, the jealous type. I wondered if the same could be said of Kurosaki?”

“Ichigo? Jealous? No. Not really... He's...” Eyebrows raised slightly, “Actually... at times he can be incredible jealous. He's very protective of the people he loves.”

“That would work then...” Sucking in a breath the Arrancar hesitated uncomfortably, “I remember you sayin' that their emotions worked both ways. What Shiro felt, Kurosaki felt. What Kurosaki felt, Shiro felt. That right?”

“Yes, that is correct. But... Why?”

“Even if Shiro is obsessed with Aizen, and that rubbed off on Kurosaki... There's no way the kid would suddenly stop lovin' you. He came to Hueco Mundo, even knowin' the dangers, just to save you. So... Even if he's asleep, some part of his affection towards you must still be effectin' Shiro.” Grimmjow licked his lips, “So... I wonder if jealousy would be enough to make Kurosaki surface.”

The Kuchiki heir frowned faintly at the thought, there would be no way of knowing unless they tried but the question was... How would they do that? And would it have the opposite effect, would Ichigo feel betrayed? Isolated? Would he sink even further?

They had to try, Byakuya decided, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well... You probably won't like it... Just promise not to kill me 'cause I have to go meet Szayel in a bit.”

* * *

The recreation area was the one place aside from the canteen that all the Espada were welcome to use at the same time. It was rare to find more than one or two Espada within its confines at a time, however, as Shiro crossed the threshold he was surprised to see not only Nnoitra, but Grimmjow and Szayel as well. What was more than a little suspicious was the fact they were all sat rather close and clearly in deep conversation about something.

A brief glance around the white washed room revealed a collection of bookshelves, comfortable sofas and chairs, coffee tables, tea and snack making facilities, World of the Living style exercise equipment and what looked like an antique vinyl.

He couldn't help but notice that the hushed whispering of the Espada was silenced by his arrival, he chose to ignore it for the time being and instead stomped over to the bookshelves. He allowed a finger to trail across the many battered spines of the wide collection of novels, searching for something of interest.

“Yo Cero,” Grimmjow's voice caught his attention and gold eyes flicked over to the three Espada, “Is it true you attacked Barragan yesterday?”

“Yes.” He said, his tone reeking of boredom, “Although, I think it's more accurate to say he attacked me first, I simply reacted in self defence.”

“See Szayel, I told you Starrk wasn't bullshittin' us.” Blue eyes rolled dramatically, “You busted his nose pretty good. He's had it comin' for a while though.”

“Mm, I got that impression too.” Shiro sighed deeply, plucking a book free and taking it to one of the chairs nearby to the other three Espada, “Wanted me to call him 'majesty' believe it or not.”

“What, really?” Szayel turned in his seat to look over.

“Yeah, apparently he was pissed that I hadn't gone to introduce myself to him like I did with the rest of ya.” A shrug, “He didn't take rejection well.”

Nnoitra laughed loudly at that, snorting as he got to his feet and strode over, leaning over against the back of Shiro's chair as he looked at the book he was reading, “I heard some interestin' news too about yesterday. Apparently, ya were sparrin' with Aizen-sama in his private trainin' arena.”

“What about it?” Shiro flopped his head back so he could stare up at the Quinto.

“Well... How was it?” He asked as if it was obvious.

Frowning faintly, the albino cocked his head to one side, “Like any other trainin' session. Why, what do ya think it was like?”

Tutting loudly, Nnoitra pushed away and folded his arms. Szayel took the opportunity to slide from his seat and perched on the arm of the albino's chair instead.

“Our dear Quinto is asking, and making a right royal mess of it if I might add, whether or not your sparring session was extra-curricular.” Whiskey eyes met gold ones, a smug smile stretched across thin lips, “Basically, Nnoitra wants to know if-”

“We fucked?” Shiro interrupted, his grin returning as he giggled, “Seriously? That's what ya really wanna know?”

“No one else around here gets special sparrin' privileges with him.” The Quinto muttered, huffing.

“Sorry, I don't kiss and tell.” He crossed one leg over the other and turned the next page of his book.

“Maybe you lost some of that famous sex drive when you took over from Kurosaki.” Grimmjow had one eyebrow raised teasingly as he looked over.

“Excuse me? Famous sex drive?” Szayel fluttered his eyelashes, expecting an explanation.

“Mm, Kurosaki was a sex addict in the Academy, probably didn't realise it himself. But accordin' to Gin... When he joined Division Five under Aizen they had a rule that the only person Kurosaki was allowed to fuck was Aizen.” There was a toothy grin and a low chuckle, “Accordin' to Gin, Kurosaki used to go for hours. Guess you lost that in the cross over, eh, Shiro?”

Shiro scowled at the Sexta venomously, “No, I did not _lose_ it. If any of ya were worth fuckin' ya would probably have found that out by now.”

“Oh, that hurts. That hurts real bad.” Nnoitra held his chest and shook his head, “I didn't have ya down as bitchy.”

“Mm.” Grimmjow's smirk quirked upwards, “Maybe my memories of Shino are skewed then, eh?”

Shiro's eyes narrowed. They'd never spoken about it. Even after he'd remembered their fling after awakening, he assumed it was because Grimmjow didn't want Aizen to kill him for touching what was his, and well... Shiro didn't normally go back for sloppy seconds, neither did Ichigo.

Rolling his eyes in a huff, eager to stop Szayel or Nnoitra exploring Grimmjow's jibe, the albino snapped his book shut, “We kissed, alright? Nothin' else happened because Barragan interrupted.”

“No wonder you attacked him.” Grimmjow scoffed, “So, tell me... And don't take this the wrong way...”

“What is it?” Shiro glared.

“Well, if your goin' after Aizen and you wanna pick up where things left off... You won't mind if I make a move on Kuchiki, will you?”

“What?!” Nnoitra and Szayel exclaimed in unison.

“Ya... Want to fuck him?” The Cero's eyebrows had almost disappeared under his hair.

“Well, he's a pretty face and I always was interested back when I was spyin' in Soul Society. Try everythin' once, that's my motto. And I've never fucked a Shinigami, not a _real_ one anyway.” Grimmjow got to his feet slowly, prowling towards their little gathering, “Come on... He's fuckin' hot for a Shinigami. That cold steel glare... The high cheekbones... And I mean, being his guardian I've been fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of that tight ass and... Man, who could resist?”

Shiro was painfully aware of the stares currently fixed on his face, waiting for some kind of reaction. He was also aware of the discomfort churning in his gut at the idea of someone, anyone touching Byakuya. But that was ridiculous. He didn't care for Byakuya. He didn't love him. He didn't want him. That was in the past, that had been Ichigo's influence. Not his... Not his.

“Do what ya want with him. It's no concern of mine.” He was glad that his voice came out even, “I appreciate ya askin' first though. Those are some fine manners ya got there.”

“Well, you know what they say... No quality of fuck is worth gettin' your mask ripped off for.”

Tongue clicking against his teeth, Shiro met the blue gaze of the Sexta. There was something there, something in those eyes that was calling out to him. Challenging him. It was as if Grimmjow wanted to see a rise out of him. Wanted to see some kind of reaction. Wanted to see him fall. Instead of rising to it, the albino got up quite suddenly and slung an arm around the blue haired Espada's shoulders, pulling him close.

“Too true, Grimmjow, too true.” He tapped his index finger against the jawbone structure on the Sexta's face, “Tell ya what, for the sake of old times... If ya really wanna know what will get him squirmin' make sure ya lick the scars on his shoulder and stomach. They're sensitive beyond anythin' ya can imagine. He'll be putty in yer hands.”

“Thanks for the hint, I'll be sure to have him beggin' at my feet before the day's out.” Grimmjow smirked back at him widely, “Always an excitin' thought, addin' another notch to my bed post.”

“Tch.” Szayel folded his arms, “I fear I have grown rather bored of this conversation, gentlemen. I'll be retiring to my laboratory.”

Shiro watched as the pink haired Espada stalked from the recreation room, “Huh, I think he fancies a bit of you himself, Sexta.”

“Nothin' he hasn't had before.” Nnoitra teased.

“Shut up.” Blue eyes narrowed moodily.

“Really? Ya had Szayel?” The albino Hollow chuckled throatily, “Ya sure do pick 'em.”

“It was a long time ago.” Grimmjow muttered, “And I wouldn't knock it till you've tried it, he was damn good in bed. Up for practically anythin'.”

“Much like our sweet Cero then.” Nnoitra winked at Shiro.

“If ya were worth my time, ya would find out just how good I can be.” The albino grinned widely, “But ya ain't worth my time, Nnoitra. Ya ain't even worth the shackles ya would need to tame me.”

Nnoitra looked aghast at the insult while Grimmjow was reduced to a fit of cackling laughter. Shiro folded his arms smugly across his chest and raised an eyebrow at the two men.

“Alright, alright... I'll take that blow to my pride.” The Quinto shook his head slowly, “But ya gotta dish the dirt... Is there anyone apart from Aizen that catches your eye? Anyone at all?”

“I never realised ya were such a gossip!” Shiro snorted, “If ya ever beat me in a sparrin' session I'll tell ya. Until then, I guess ya will have to use yer imagination.”

“That's so cruel, don't tease me like that.” The lanky Espada sighed deeply, “Ugh, but speakin' of sparrin'... Tesra was pesterin' me to join him today. If I don't head off soon he'll only come and find me, pretentious little shit that he is.”

“Don't let us keep you.” Grimmjow sneered, watching as Nnoitra headed for the exit.

“Let me know how it goes with Kuchiki, and don't leave out the good bits.” The Quinto stuck his long tongue out before disappearing from their sights.

Shiro turned his attention to the Sexta Espada curiously, he'd never pictured Grimmjow to be the kind of person to screw a Shinigami. But then again, he hadn't expected to be that kind of person either. Sighing, the Cero returned his book to the shelf and stretched restlessly.

“I'll be goin'. Got some shit to take care of.” He paused by the door, hand resting on the frame as a small frown creased his brow, “Grimmjow?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't hurt him.” He wasn't sure where the words had come from, but they escaped him without warning. He wanted to kick himself for it, but instead he simply held his head a little higher and returned to his room in a crackle of Sonido.

The key turned in the lock, sandals were kicked across the room, the albino flopped down on the couch and stared at the wall in front of him. His smile faded and gave way to a fully formed scowl. He felt restless, felt agitated. There was still a niggling discomfort in the back of his skull, a tickling scratch he couldn't get rid of. Grimmjow was going to fuck Byakuya. What if the nobleman didn't want that? Would Grimmjow assault him, just as Ulquiorra had assaulted Ichigo? Would he take what he wanted, without a care about the nobleman's wishes?

Worse... What if it _was_ what Byakuya wanted? What if he'd given up on Ichigo completely? Decided to move on and start over again... What if _Grimmjow_ was his choice of a new lover? Grimmjow of all people. Destructive, crude, brash, disrespectful...

“Just like Ichigo... Just like me.” He said aloud, flinching at his own voice.

His feet were tapping on the floor, fingers drumming on his thighs. He could feel Grimmjow's reiatsu moving down the hallway, returning to his private quarters. Byakuya was in that room, he knew that. How long would it take the Sexta to start his seduction?

“Fuck!” Shiro was on his feet, pacing back and forth in front of the couch, “Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck it! FUCK!”

His hands were shaking at his sides, chest tight as he sucked in hesitant breaths. Rage was boiling just beneath the surface... But why? Why was he so enraged at the idea of Grimmjow and Byakuya? He wanted Aizen. He wanted only Aizen. It was what his heart and head had craved for so many years. Byakuya had only ever been Ichigo's plaything... Not his... He didn't want him... He didn't care... He... He...

Freezing on the spot, the albino swallowed hard as he stared out of the balcony doors, watching as great gusts of sand were lifted and thrown by the tremulous winds outside of Las Noches. He could hear drumming inside his head, loud obnoxious drums, the sound of blood rushing. Fear. Crushing, stabbing fear.

Staggering into the bathroom, the door banged loudly against the wall as he almost fell to his knees. His hands flew out and grabbed the sink, his chest banging against the ceramic painfully as the breath was knocked from his lungs. Pulling himself up, Shiro stared at himself in the mirror and let out a choked gasp.

Black was peeling away, shrinking back as pure white threatened to take over his sclera. The snowy roots of his hair were bleeding orange in thin wispy streaks that made him retch in disbelief.

_'No... I will not... Lose control like... This... I won't let ya... I won't let... Stop it. Stop it! STOP!'_ He brought his hands up, gripping fistfuls of his hair as he released a loud roar of anger, reiatsu spiralling upwards in an uncontrollable torrent, shattering the mirror and the glass partition of the shower in the same moment.

* * *

Byakuya looked up from his book as the door slammed shut and Grimmjow appeared in the bedroom doorway, he could see from the look on his face that his plan had gone as expected. The thought brought a twang of anxiety to his gut, but he was determined to follow through with it if there was even the slightest chance it could rouse Ichigo's dormant Soul.

“He took the bait.” The Sexta said gruffly, “Seemed calm as fuck, but somethin' definitely changed.”

“I see.” The Kuchiki heir rose from the bed slowly and closed his book, placing it carefully on the bedside table, “How long do we have?”

“Hard to say... It should be eatin' at him now. I guess it just depends on how badly he reacts...” Grimmjow seemed tense, taking cautious steps further into the bedroom, “I'm gonna warn ya once, Byakuya... If he bursts in here and it doesn't go to plan you might end up painted a pretty decent shade of red.”

“I didn't have you down as the nervous type, Grimmjow.” The noble closed the distance between them, holding his head high, “I have faith that at the very least we may make Shiro stop and think for a short time.”

“Mm... I hope so.” Blue eyes narrowed as they traced the angular face in front of him, “Are you prepared?”

“I am.” Steel eyes burned with determination, “We go as far as we have to.”

“Agreed. We'll do... Wait, wait, wait...” Grimmjow suddenly threw a hand through his hair and reddened in the face, “From what I know about Kurosaki, I'm gonna assume you're dominant in bed.”

“And how exactly... Would you know that?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow questioningly.

The Espada paused, staring at him for a long and silent moment, “Well... You know what he was like in Shino.”

“Oh.” His voice was small, surprised. He knew Ichigo had never had any idea that Grimmjow was a Hollow, but he'd never mentioned...

“He doesn't remember.” Grimmjow interrupted his trail of thought, “He wasn't exactly... The one in control.”

“Shiro...” He sighed and shook his head, “That Hollow...”

“Yeah, tell me about it...”

Byakuya blinked, fighting against the blush threatening to streak across his cheeks, “Regardless, you are quite correct I am the one who usually takes charge. But why?”

“So am I.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Grimmjow's eyes moved in the direction of the swirling mass of Shiro's reiatsu they could feel rising from the Cero Espada's room.

“For Ichigo's sake... I will submit to your lead. But if you breath a word of it to _anyone_ I will end you.” The raven haired Shinigami said quietly, his lips sealed in a tight line.

“Deal.” The Sexta whispered.

Byakuya gulped harshly as he felt Grimmjow's arm slide around his waist, pulling him closer against his body as his head dipped. He felt lips brushing the line of his throat as fingers threaded in his hair and tipped his head to one side. The noble was reluctant to admit to the scorching heat that rose in response to the nibbling sensation of teeth against his skin, his breath stuttering in his throat as he felt the coldness of the wall against his back. It felt like an eternity since he'd last felt Ichigo's touch, he was raw from it, he hadn't realised just how much he needed it.

The fingers in his hair forced his head back, Grimmjow's lips were forceful against his own. Demanding and dramatic and sure. The heady feeling of arousal had Byakuya forgetting everything else as he wrapped his arms around the Arrancar's shoulders and pulled him closer.

_'I will beg for Ichigo's forgiveness,'_ Byakuya thought as Grimmjow's tongue slipped between his lips, _'I can only hope he understands the lengths I am willing to go to in order to get him back. As he once vowed to do anything to protect his friends, I now find myself doing the same to bring him back to me. It is extreme, and it is cruel... But this is the situation I find myself in. I hope he can understand... I hope he can forgive me...'_

Grimmjow's plan had been simple, and yet relied on the complexities of Shiro's fragile co-existence with Ichigo. It relied upon the fact that even when Shiro had been in a state of hibernation, his love for Aizen had continued to colour Ichigo's feelings too. The Sexta's hopes were that even while Ichigo was now slumbering, his love for Byakuya would continue to effect Shiro's feelings too. They had little to no way of being certain, it wasn't something they could test. It was something they just had to do.

_If_ and only if Shiro was still influenced by Ichigo's love for Byakuya, the Sexta believed he would be unable to allow Byakuya to become 'another notch' in Grimmjow's bed post. And perhaps, the jealousy and possessiveness would be enough to dislodge Shiro's dominance. Maybe... Just maybe it would be enough to wake Ichigo from his dormancy.

Byakuya heard a moan, his face flushing as he realised it had come from his own throat. One of his legs was lifted against Grimmjow's waist as the blue haired Arrancar pressed into him, grinding roughly as their lips and tongues continued to tangle and dance heatedly.

He had wanted to slap Grimmjow for his idea when it had first been proposed that morning, but he had stayed his hand and listened. It truly seemed like the Espada was trying to think of a way to help, the way he had explained the plan hadn't been lecherous or perverse. It hadn't felt like Grimmjow was simply trying to get him into bed. It had sounded genuine. And from everything Byakuya had learned about him and his past, he found himself willing to believe in him once again.

There had been the awkward discussion, the acknowledgement that if they went ahead they would both experience perfectly natural physical reactions to each other. Chemistry afflicting their bodies. He had taken strength in the memory of Ichigo's willingness to continue having sex with Aizen to prevent the man realising his emotions had returned. If Ichigo had been willing to do that, even while in the midst of having his entire world turned upside down, how could he refuse to do the same to save him. He couldn't.

Arching as he felt fingers in the sash around his middle, Byakuya let out a soft groan as his shihakusho fell open to reveal the creamy skin of his torso, blemished only by the lingering scars from Shiro's previous attacks on him.

_'Even if I can't forgive myself for betraying him, I will never stop doing what I have to in order to keep him safe.'_

Byakuya's eyes fluttered open as he felt himself sink into the soft depths of the mattress, he propped himself up on his elbows as he watched Grimmjow discard his short jacket. There was no mistaking that they were both aroused, both flushed and shining with sweat. But there was a seriousness on the Sexta's face, something that told the nobleman that if ever he wanted to stop all he need do was ask. He had expected nothing less from Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. As feral and rabid as he seemed on the outside, he had the heart of an intellectual and a gentleman.

His sash was in Grimmjow's hands and the Espada smirked as he gestured for him to raise his hands. Byakuya's eyebrows twitched toward a scowl, more annoyed by the sudden painful twinge in his groin at the idea of being bound by someone who was meant to be his sworn enemy. He lifted his hands silently and watched as the crimson material was wrapped around them securely, binding his wrists together so he couldn't wriggle free.

He was absolutely never going to admit how arousing it was not to be in control. Never.

Grimmjow was standing at the end of the bed, fingers wrapped around the nobleman's ankles as he dragged him down the bed towards him, leaning over to clash their mouths together again. It roused moans from them both this time.

“Don't forget to lick his scars like I told ya, Grimmjow.”

The Shinigami and the Sexta both looked around suddenly, eyes wide as they saw Shiro sat in the chair in the corner of the room. He looked the picture of calm, one leg crossed over the other, fingers linked over his stomach, head tilted to one side like a curious puppy.

But the orange streaks running through his snowy hair, the way black was struggling to maintain dominance across his sclera and the crumbling patches of tanned skin on his face and neck told a _very_ different story.


	54. The Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Grimmjow's plan strikes hard in the form of the deranged Cero Espada, but as with so many things... He never behaves how anyone expects him to.

Byakuya's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the bleeding orange and vitiligo patches of tanned skin, his eyes widening as gold irises fixed on his face. The sound of Shiro tutting as he pushed himself up out of the chair was terrifying, each click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth seemed to make the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Is this... What ya wanted, Grimmjow? When ya asked me if it was okay to fuck Kuchiki?” Shiro's eyes never left Byakuya's face, “Was this what ya had planned? Testin' me? Pushin' me? Tryin' to see how easily I. WOULD. BREAK!”

Byakuya skirted back on the bed as he watched the blue haired Arrancar hit the floor as the albino struck him forcefully. Unconscious, not dead. Not yet.

“Now...” The Cero's head tilted from side to side as he roamed the sight of Byakuya's bound wrists and naked torso, “I've never suspected ya to be the type of man to come up with such a manipulative plan... So I'm gonna assume it was _his_ idea. Am I right?”

Balling his hands into fists, the nobleman tried his bed not to appear intimidated, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Wrong answer.” A bare foot came to rest on the side of Grimmjow's face, the heel digging into the remnant of his Hollow mask, “Tell me the truth... Or he ends up like Ulquiorra.”

There was no lie in his eyes. No hesitation, no fear, no comradery. Shiro felt no loyalty to any of the Espada, it was just as Byakuya had feared. He would kill them all, orders or no orders.

“It was my idea.” He said softly, the lie coming easier than he had expected, he refused to break eye contact for even a second, “I... Believed that the jealousy would rouse Ichigo's personality enough for him to take back control. I begged Grimmjow to help me, he didn't want to initially. He was reluctant to deceive you... But I... Convinced him.”

“How?”

“I can be very convincing when I have to be.” Steel eyes narrowed slightly as he discreetly began tugging at the sash around his wrists, trying to wriggle free from his bonds.

“Mm. I believe you.” Shiro's eyes slowly lowered to the unconscious Espada on the floor, he leaned down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging him out of the room without another word.

Byakuya faltered immediately, sliding off the bed in a hurry as he tried to see what the albino was doing. He was stopped in his tracks when Shiro appeared in front of him, his Sonido was so fast... He could barely keep track of him. Taking a step back, the nobleman felt his breath hitch in his chest painfully as he stared up into those intoxicating gold eyes.

“I tried to be fine with it, ya know? I knew... I knew it was a challenge. I knew it was some stupid plan to get me to lose control... I was determined to let ya go through with it. It would have been fun to see how your precious pride coped with betraying _him_.” Shiro's smirk was wide and sly.

“You can barely bring yourself to say his name can you?” Byakuya growled, “You can barely bring yourself to remember the person you should truly be loyal to! His name is Ichigo Kurosaki! You can't pretend he never existed!”

“SHUT... Yer mouth... Kuchiki...” Panting suddenly at the anger evoked, the albino lifted a hand and dragged his index finger down the noble's cheek, sucking in a breath at how soft his skin was. Just how he remembered it.

“This isn't you.” The Shinigami tried again, his voice softer this time, “When we first met properly, in his Inner World you wanted to keep Ichigo safe. You wanted to protect him. That's why you took his memories, to keep him safe from his past. That is all you ever wanted. You cannot truly expect me to believe that... Somehow that has changed. You took control to save him from the atrocities of what Ulquiorra did, to save his life... And you have done that. Why can't you let go?”

“I spent... _Years_ servin' a King who was weaker than me, do ya have any idea how frustratin' that is? Lendin' power to someone to stop them gettin' killed by an enemy that by rights... Should have had his head rolling at their feet?” Shiro ran his tongue across his teeth slowly, eyes tracing every inch of the other man's face, “I told him... I warned him... If he wasn't strong enough I'd take the crown and become King myself. Stupid... Pathetic... Weak little _Ichigo_ didn't listen. Didn't believe me. Thought he could tame me with kindness... Makes me sick to think about it.”

“But... But you co-existed for months! You were... Friends! What changed? Why did coming here change that? You cared about him! You cared about his life, his strength, his safety... What changed?” Byakuya felt tears welling in his eyes, his voice turning hoarse with the effort to keep it even.

“What... Changed?” Shiro repeated.

“Yes... Tell me what changed.”

A small, manic giggle came free as the albino grinned at him, “I heard the Hōgyoku. Its' voice was so pure and so perfect... I felt like I was finally home. Finally among people like me.” Slowly Shiro sighed, running his thumb across Byakuya's lips thoughtfully.

“People who hate and fear you for what you are.” Byakuya snarled, “You would steal Ichigo's life from him... To fuel your own sick, twisted fantasy. Playing house while the world burns around you.”

Shiro prised the nobleman's mouth open and pushed his thumb inside the warm wet cavern, rolling the digit against his tongue and his teeth as his smile turned into a scowl, “I know they hate me. I know they fear me. I have tried to be their friend, I have tried to show I can be a good leader. But their minds were already made up. I am assumin' ya had a hand in it.”

Eyes widening as he felt the albino's fingers tighten around his face, his thumb remaining buried between his lips, Byakuya winced as he was lifted off his feet. His toes barely touched the floor, he lifted his bound hands and tried to get a good grip of the pale wrist in front of him, wincing as the grasp on his face became painful.

“Damn it all.” Shiro's voice was croaky, his teeth clenched.

The world seemed to spin as Byakuya found himself on the bed, Shiro hovering just above him, long locks of hair falling around them like a curtain as the Cero's tongue traced a nonsensical pattern against his cheek. His thumb finally retracting, dragging saliva down the noble's chin and chest. The raven haired Shinigami could see the redness seeping into pale cheeks as Shiro pressed their lips together.

A reluctant moan rose from the back of the Kuchiki heir's throat. Shiro's lips felt just like Ichigo's, he tasted just like Ichigo. His heart was racing in his chest as their tongues clashed wickedly, he jerked his hips as he was bitten by sharp teeth, tasting the metallic tang of blood. The albino pulled back by a breadth, kissing down the Shinigami's throat in a taunting mix of puckered lips and snapping teeth.

Byakuya's eyes fluttered as he felt the warm wetness of his tongue brushing the scar on his shoulder, swirling against the crimped skin. Shiro was kissing down his body, further and further... Tongue darting out again to caress the scar on his stomach, the heat and moisture of the muscle was arousing despite every inch of his brain demanding he bring an end to what was happening.

Nails dug into his hips, dragging teasingly against his skin, bringing a moan from his lips that he fought hard to stifle, covering his mouth with his arm. He heard and felt the tugging of his hakama being removed, leaving him completely bare to Shiro's eyes. Byakuya could feel the rolling heat of breath against his skin, fingers wrapping around his shaft, pumping up and down in a teasing motion that seemed to get quicker and quicker only to slow again when he felt he'd lose his mind.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he should stop it. This wasn't Ichigo, regardless of the orange streaks and the patches of tanned skin and the battling black and white of his sclera this was still very much Shiro. It was still the Hollow. Still the Espada. Not his fiancé. But he couldn't help but think that maybe Ichigo would stir if it continued. It felt good, Shiro's touches mimicked Ichigo's in every single way. Maybe through muscle memory Ichigo would find his way to the surface.

His body jerked as he felt Shiro's mouth close around his erection without warning, lips sliding up his length and back down. He could feel himself hitting the back of his throat, he could feel him swallowing around him, moaning, the vibrations of his throat made him melt. Tongue swirling around his heated flesh, teeth dragging teasingly. He was too far gone. He couldn't stop now even if he wanted to.

_'By the Soul King, forgive me Ichigo.'_

Heart pounding, breath straining, skin shining with sweat and a warm blush that spread across his nose and cheeks without consent, Byakuya let out a cry of pleasure as he felt two slick fingers tease him, slipping inside of his body with very little effort. He had always lived his life knowing there was a first time for everything, but this wasn't what he had expected. He was crowing with pleasure, moans and groans escaping him with every drawn breath as Shiro seemed to find his prostate with very little difficulty, nudging the bundle of nerves relentlessly.

Suddenly, he felt his legs wrap tightly around the lithe pale body above him, at some point Shiro had loosened his hakama enough to free his own erection. Lips and teeth were biting at his ear, a low growl of warning.

“No Espada will ever touch ya again. They can't have what's _mine_.”

A cry broke free as he felt Shiro enter him, his length vastly larger than the fingers that had prepared him, he was sure he would break from how far his spine arched in response to the foreign feeling of fullness. One of Shiro's hands was keeping his own bound ones trapped above his head, while the other hand grabbed at the bedding beside the noble's head. He could see feral need burning in the golden pits of his eyes, wild and unhinged, desperate and needy. Urgent.

It was wild and it was hungry as the Cero Espada started moving, his thrusts deep and long as he moved against the mewling Shinigami beneath him. Byakuya was releasing sounds he didn't even know he could make, his toes curling as his body quaked in response to the violent sparks of delight pulsing through him. He was certain he would feel ashamed later, when it was over, when Shiro had gone, when he was left to explain what the fuck had happened once Grimmjow was awake. He knew his pride would be dented, he knew he might never make it right. It was beyond his control.

He felt Shiro's breath getting heavier against his ear, he could feel the trembling muscles between his thighs as he thrusts became more determined and necessary. A hand came down to wrap around his length again, palming him in time with each thrust, driving him insane at the sensations crashing over him.

Byakuya hit the peak, his eyes widening as his body jerked, spasming without warning as his climax struck him. He let out a sharp wail, tossing his head back as his hips bucked rhythmically against Shiro's, a low growl hitting his ears as the albino suddenly stiffened above him, erection buried deep as the Hollow's orgasm hit.

Whining at the feeling of additional fullness, Byakuya felt his body shaking, his legs sliding down from Shiro's sides as he lost all strength. His face was burning hot, his stomach already beginning to churn even before the momentary afterglow had disappeared.

The nobleman flinched as Shiro pulled back, the albino looked startled, confused, lost. His eyes widened as his brow furrowed, searching blindly for answers to some unasked question. Byakuya sat up slowly as he watched Shiro stumble away from him, eyes darting from side to side as black seemed to win the unseen battle, engulfing his sclera completely once again.

They came eye to eye, staring at one and other in silence. Shiro opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again in a wordless stretch. Byakuya felt his heart sink as he watched orange streaks of hair disappearing amidst the avalanche of white, tanned skin peeling off and disappearing into tiny orbs of reishi.

Ichigo hadn't surfaced. Shiro had regained control.

“This...” Shiro seemed wobbly on his feet, swaying back and forth as he tried to look anywhere but the naked noble on the bed, “This shouldn't have... This... What did ya do to me? What... What did... What do ya do...”

Byakuya watched with a sinking feeling as Shiro adjusted his uniform and lurched towards the bedroom door, disappearing before the nobleman could say anything. Sucking in a shaky breath as he was left alone, the Kuchiki heir felt his shoulders slump, lifting his wrists to his mouth as he managed to tug the sash open with his teeth.

Ignoring the soreness on his skin, the noble grabbed the bedsheets in his shaky grasp and pulled them around his body, covering himself as he clenched his teeth. The urge to cry was overwhelming, he almost wasn't able to stop himself. Nothing about this had gone how they'd planned. He wasn't sure if it had gone better or gone worse, but it definitely hadn't ended how he'd hoped.

For a fleeting moment, he'd seen orange hair and it had given him hope of something good coming out of Grimmjow's insane plan. But that hope was gone now. He groaned in discomfort as he slid off the bed, his back and legs aching as he shuffled towards the bathroom, he barely had the energy to shut the door before his shoulders began to shake.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, his head hung low as he found himself in front of the mirror. His face still bore the high blush of fading arousal, pale bruises making themselves known around his jaw, bite marks littering his throat and chest. Byakuya was truly beginning to believe that Ichigo was gone for good, perhaps even his own plan to save his strawberry lover would fail. Perhaps it was better to admit defeat now, to acknowledge that the world had turned monochrome and would remain that way.

The noble turned away from his reflection, flicking the hot water on in the shower. He would be able to think clearer once he had sifted through the turmoil of thoughts stifling his mind.

* * *

Shiro was in serious danger of losing it.

A slow bubble of laughter brewed in his throat, escaping mirthfully as he threw his head back, eyes stinging with tears that quickly rolled down his face. His fingers were tapping against his face, nails digging in until small crescents were left dimpled in place, the tremble of his hands had barely subsided since locking himself away in his room.

His toes began to tap against the wooden floors, eyes rolling in his head as he released a long sharp cackle, leaping up without warning as his hands threaded in his hair as the darkness began to pour out. His body weaving around the room in a silent dance to music only he could hear. He'd spent so many hours, so many days trying to blend in with the Espada, trying to contain his madness, trying to befriend them... But that wasn't who he was. He was manic, he was insane, he was crazed.

He sank to the floor as a small sob escaped him, his smile fading in the wake of the weighty guilt that was gnawing at his insides. What had he done? He had been more or less in control when he'd entered Grimmjow's room, he had been in control when he'd sat in that chair and watched the two of them kissing and touching and entwining. And then like a switch being flicked something had snapped inside, deep inside and he could barely remember standing up... He certainly didn't recall hitting Grimmjow or dragging his unconscious dead weight out of the room.

But feeling Byakuya's lips against his own... It had been addictive, irrational and it had filled him with an uncontrollable need to claim what was rightfully his. It made no sense, and it wasn't an urge he could refuse. It was instinct. Absolute instinct.

Slumping forwards, Shiro let his hands spread out on the floor, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He didn't understand it. It had felt so good, and yet in the moments after he'd felt so very cold. He had betrayed Aizen, broken the rules... Been swayed by the dregs of Ichigo's essence.

The hate in Byakuya's eyes had been tangible, palpable, he could almost taste it on his tongue. And the nobleman was right... The Espada hated him. Feared him. They would never understand him. His heart was thundering in his chest. He needed to do something. Anything. He had to get the burning memory of soft, pale skin writhing beneath him. His room was a danger to him. Devoid of distraction.

Scrambling off the floor, he dashed towards the door. His fingers closed around the handle before he stopped to consider where he might go. His first urge was to seek out Nnoitra and demand another sparring session, but the Quinto was likely training with his Fracción now. Pouting slightly at the thought, he lifted his other hand, dragging his nails absent-mindedly against the wood. There was some momentary solace to be found in the sound of paint chipping and peeling.

Perhaps Szayel would have something interesting for him to look at, some new experiment, some volatile substance to test. The pink haired Espada was as beautiful as he was mad, intelligent and unethical. And yet, what was the use of sharing his madness with someone who found him frightening? Was he that unhinged that even Szayel quivered in his shadow?

His nails dug deeper, leaving thin grooves in the jagged mesh of whorls.

Harribel continued to elude him, it was as if she could smell the crazy and kept her distance as a result. She blamed her duties, her care for the prisoners in the detention centre and her responsibilities to her Fracción and to Aizen. She would undoubtedly refuse to even open the door to him in his current state. Starrk was the same, he didn't like negative behaviours rubbing off on Lilynette, she was his priority.

Tilting his head slowly, his pout twisted downwards into a dark scowl. No one understood him. Not really. They were tolerating him. He could smell it like blood seeping through a stagnant wall, dripping all over his best carpet and leaving a gloopy mess that he'd never be able to clean up. They tolerated him because of his rank and Aizen's favouritism.

That knowledge made him angry. He couldn't quite work out why. Ichigo had always been able to make friends so easily, even when he hadn't wanted them, even when he'd treated them like trash, they'd remained loyal and tried to help him through the darkest times of his life. No one liked him enough to do that. They either feared him, or put up with him because they had to.

Except...

Slamming his palm against the door, he clenched his teeth. Byakuya had always tried. He stood by him and accepted him, madness and all. He had forgiven him for his past, accepted him for who and what he was. He'd never asked him to change. Never shied away. Never shown fear.

Teeth grinding almost painfully, Shiro released a low hiss and turned away from the door, a small huff escaping him as he instead stalked out onto the balcony, glancing around at the black skies of Hueco Mundo. He couldn't stay. He needed a breather. He needed space. Needed to do something to clear his mind.

He climbed over the railing and dropped down. The smallest of grunts passed his lips as he hit the silky white sands, but he shrugged it off and started walking. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't particularly care either. He just wanted to get away. Get away from people that didn't care and pretended they did. And away from someone who did care... He wished they didn't.

Shiro kicked a pebble across the sand, grunting with distaste as it bounced once. Twice. Three times. Dead.

Aizen had promised to give him a chance to settle in, in Ichigo's stead, but he had a feeling that no one else was willing to give him that chance. Not really. They were pretending. Who would want some manic loose cannon ball leading them anyway? He was still sure that Byakuya had done something, said something to convince the Espada not to give him a chance. Surely they hadn't decided not to trust him just based on what they'd seen him do to Ulquiorra.

He kicked another pebble and watched as it bounced once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Dead.

Coming to a stop and glancing back towards the immense palace, he held a hand up, trying to see if he was far enough away to make the building disappear. He was still too close. His fingers dropped limply to his side and he his gaze turned skywards, pulling a face as he glared up at the half moon hovering above him.

It was so white. So pure. So shiny. And yet only half of what it should have been. It's light would be fuller if all of it was there. If it was complete.

“If it was complete. Fuck that.” He spat, stomping onwards again.

He'd spent so many years with that second voice to keep him company. That little flare of conscience that could keep him from totally losing it. His mind seemed to empty without it. So distant and detached. He would never have fucked anyone behind Aizen's back with that little voice keeping him restrained.

It was Ichigo's fault, he decided harshly, he'd been selfish, always keeping control. Never letting him breathe properly. Letting him out for short walks on a leash to try and help a life threatening situation only to reel him back in at the end of it. Caging him like a dog. He wasn't a dog. He _wasn't_ a dog! He wasn't anyone's dog!

“I'M NOT A DOG!” He shouted suddenly, hand flying to his mouth to contain the words that had spilled out, “Fuck, I said that out loud didn't I? Fuck. Stupid. Stupid. Worth it... I'm the Cero Espada... I ain't no one's fuckin' dog. It's time for _him_ to live on a leash... Let him see how it feels to be kept as a pet... I DON'T care...”

Resting his hands on his hips and glowering angrily into nothingness, the Espada closed his eyes. Getting that wound up wasn't worth the trouble he'd get into if he decimated a community of Hollows, he decided. Eyes flashed open. Decimating a community of Hollows was more than worth the trouble, he decided.

His Pesquisa told him there was a small village of weak Hollows to the North, not far from his current position. He could tell they were all pretty pathetic, nothing there to challenge him. But he wasn't entirely concerned with challenges at the present moment, he was more interested in just killing something.

Making a move towards the huddle of miniscule life forms, he decided not to use Zangetsu, there was no need really. He could kill them just as easily with his own hands. His fingers were over-flexed from thinking about it, thinking about coiling them around slender necks and snapping in two. The thought alone brought a thundering skip to his heartbeat, exciting him and drawing him in.

He was frozen in place quite suddenly, when his Pesquisa picked up another entity, a little further away but ten times stronger than his current targets. His body almost seemed to sway by itself towards the new presence, his footsteps hastening as a lust for conflict took over, his hand stretching up of its own accord to prise Zangetsu from his sheath.

Shiro jumped over the sand dune that stood between him and his prey, lifting his sword high as he readied to cut them down, his body stiffening as the sight that met his eyes was quite unlike what he had expected and his entire form convulsed momentarily in shock.

Laying face down in the sand, small hands covering her head was a tiny child shaped Hollow. She had a tatty green dress on that slipped down over her feet, but it did nothing to hide the shock of green coloured hair that sprouted wildly from under the Hollow mask on the crown of her head.

His sword slipped from his fingers and landed with a dull thud in the sand as he stared down at her quivering form, she had such strong reiatsu for a child so small. He found himself confused. Instincts clawing at each other. The urge to kill and the urge to protect. They were clashing in a furious tango inside his head.

She looked little more than a Human child with a mask, smaller than Lilynette, _'I remember when Karin and Yuzu were that size. More energy than any of us could cope with and next to no need for sleep...'_

A sharp intake of breath made his blood boil, slapping himself around the head as the thought crept up without permission. That wasn't his memory. That wasn't his life. Damn Ichigo to Hell. He swept down to grab Zangetsu, he wasn't going to let some kid scare him off doing what he wanted.

He stopped before his fingertips grazed the hilt as he was fixed with wide hazel eyes. His breath caught in his throat at the sight and his mouth went dry as he saw the damage to her Hollow mask. There was an ugly gouge running through it and some teeth were missing from the jawline, he could see a large scar caressing her nose and cheek.

She looked afraid. And he found himself sitting down opposite her, hands in his lap as he watched her slowly sit up and mirror his posture. They were silent for what felt like hours, he could see streaks of recent tears on her face. He couldn't see a Zanpakutō and yet she was obviously an Arrancar. It confused him.

“Do ya got a name?” He asked finally.

“N-Nel Tu.” Even her voice was child-like, high pitched and uncertain.

“Nice to meet ya, Nel.” He found himself extending a hand towards her, “My name is Shiro.”

“Shiro?” She repeated, she grabbed his index and middle fingers in her small grasp and shook gently, “Have you seen my brothers?”

Tilting his head, he reached out with his Pesquisa, trying to sense any nearby reiatsu that might have resonated with her own, “No, I haven't seen 'em. Ya lost?”

“Mm.” She hung her head and sniffled as her small fingers plucked at the hem of her dress, “They went to find food... But... They didn't come back... I tried to find them... But I got lost... And then I found you.”

He sucked in a breath, not wanting to suggest that her brothers might be dead, he swallowed and glanced around, while he was sure she was strong enough to ward of a lot of unwanted attention, she was also defenceless. Any truly hungry Hollow would find her to be an easy meal.

On his feet in a heartbeat, his hands wrapped around her tiny frame and he scooped her up, balancing her on his hip as he slung Zangetsu back over his shoulder, “I dunno where ya brothers are but ya can't stay here on ya own. Its dangerous.”

He had expected her to struggle, so when she flung her arms around his neck and snuggled closer he was taken by surprise, golden eyes widening as she nuzzled into him affectionately. No one had ever been that comfortable with him before.

“Where we going?” She asked as he started walking.

“Las Noches, my home.” He pointed to the palace, “I can keep ya safe there.”

“L-Las Noches?!” She exclaimed, pulling back to stare at him, her mouth hanging open, “B-But that is... Where Aizen-sama lives! And all the scary Espada! They will gobble Nel up they will!”

“No they won't, I won't allow it.” He said confidently, “No one is gonna hurt ya again.”

He glanced at the scar on her head again, he could only imagine that a sword had done that, but he couldn't fathom why anyone would attack a child and then just leave. Shiro sighed contentedly as she flung herself against him again, her face burrowing into the dip where his neck and shoulder met.

“Is you strong?” She asked, playing with his hair.

“Yeah.” He grinned, “If anyone wants to hurt ya, they gotta get through me first. And they don't stand a chance!”

She released a small sound, “Is you an Espada?”

“Yeah.” He nodded once, turning slightly so she could see the number printed on his neck, “But don't worry, I won't gobble ya up unless ya misbehave.”

Nel stared for a minute before she released a loud burst of laughter, her expression breaking into a brilliant and dazzling smile that took his breath away. He found his own expression softening and he reached up, gently brushing some of her hair back out of her face. Her eyes were so big and round, just like Yuzu's. Shiro tensed at the thought but it didn't freak him out as much as before. He was making a simple observation, it didn't mean anything.

He found himself laughing along with her as they strode through the entrance of Las Noches, his usual manic tones reduced to ringing peels of bell like giggles. He mellowed very slightly as he carried her up the many staircases, passing Grimmjow's room in reluctant silence. As awkward and guilty as he felt, there was no one else he could take her to... Aizen at least might know something about her condition.

As he approached the King's Suite, he sensed Aizen and Gin inside, knocking curtly on the door he nudged it open with his free hand and stepped inside. Gold eyes swept around and he quickly saw Gin leaning against the far wall, while Aizen was sat behind his desk making notes again. It seemed like that was almost all the man did.

“Shiro-kun~” Gin's voice reached his ears and made him cringe inwardly, “Whatcha got there?”

Rolling his eyes as the silver haired fox bounded over to him, he shifted slightly so the man could see the child bundled in his arms, “Found her out on the sands.”

The man's eyes opened slightly in surprise as he peered at the small girl, “Oh my... Aizen Taichou, ya might wanna see this.”

There was a non-committal sound from the brunet but the sound of his chair being pushed back made Shiro glance up, he swallowed as Aizen approached and for some reason his arms tightened just a little around Nel, holding her protectively against his chest.

“She was all alone. I couldn't leave her there, anythin' could have happened.”

Aizen nudged Gin aside, casting his eyes over the mass of green in his Cero's arms before his eyes widening just a little, “Nelliel?”

“Ya know her?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

The current lord of Las Noches murmured, reaching out and brushing his fingers over her broken mask, “She went missing a few years ago, we were unable to find any trace of her.”

Nel peered up at them, her eyes big and uncertain, she flinched as her mask was touched, a whimper escaping her lips at the discomforting throb the contact gave off, “Nel has been with her brothers, we were playing games.”

“Did you find them with her?” Aizen asked, looking at Shiro directly.

“No sign.” He swallowed hard under his scrutiny, rubbing her back soothingly, “Who is she?”

“Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, my original Tres Espada.” He cupped the child's face softly, his thumb pad roaming over the obvious scar, “She disappeared one night and we were unable to trace her or her Fracción.”

“An Espada?” Shiro looked down at the girl and tilted his head, that explained the impressive reiatsu he'd detected from her, “I'm... Guessin' she didn't always look like this?”

“You are quite correct. She was beautiful.”

If he didn't know better, he'd think Aizen almost looked sad, he scowled faintly and tightened his fingers in the soft material of her dress, “I'm gonna look after her.”

The brunet Shinigami seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding once, “Very well, if you require anything for her care let me know, we shall have it prepared. It might be possible to reverse this... Damage. Perhaps a visit to Szayel is in order?”

The albino didn't bother to hide the look of relief, he felt quite attached to Nel in a way he'd never felt towards any other living creature, he instead offered a grateful smile and lifted the girl onto his shoulders. He chuckled softly as he felt her fingers clasp some of his unruly locks of hair as he supported her by the ankles.

“Thanks. I'll take her to see him now, even if he can't fix her... Maybe he can stop her mask hurtin'.”

“I shall join you, I'm interested in what my Octavo has to say about her. Gin we will conclude our business later.” Aizen was already heading towards the door, holding it open for his Cero Espada.

Shiro hesitated for a moment, the thought of being almost alone with the man made his gut twist in painful knots, the overwhelming feeling of needing to confess rose up in his chest. He swallowed it down, deciding that Nel was his priority for the moment. Once she was safe and settled... Then he could address the other issue

He hurried forwards, smiling brightly as he felt her tugging on his hair affectionately, he slipped past the brunet and sighed inwardly at the warm musky scent that washed over his senses all to briefly, “Alright, hold on Nel!”


	55. Nel, Nnoitra, Nonsensical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Aizen's arrival at the laboratory brings about some information relating to who hurt Nelliel, infuriated with the news Shiro requests to deal with the perpetrator. Aizen, agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologise for the late upload, pain relief made me forget what day of the week I was on. Enjoy the chapter!

The walk to Szayel's palace, his laboratory, was leisurely. The distance to the lab from the King's Suite was quite a journey, but it wasn't unpleasant. Shiro spoke little with Aizen, most of his attention spent entirely on the girl on his shoulders. She was so carefree with him, lacking all the anxiety and uncertainty of the other Arrancar.

She was so different to the Espada he'd met, they all had that vague aura of apprehension when he was around, no matter how much they tried to hide it, he could still feel it tickling around the edges. Nel wasn't like that, she was pure and innocent and didn't seem to care that he looked like he could tear her in two if he was so inclined.

He was sure that under normal circumstances, anyone being as clingy as she was would have irritated him, but on the contrary, her instant reliance on him roused inherent feelings from him that he could only assume were either fraternal or paternal. He immediately put it down to Ichigo having had sisters and grumbled inwardly, but he couldn't find any venom as he glanced up at the grinning girl on his shoulders. He couldn't be mad.

Aizen opened the door to the laboratory for him, he muttered his appreciation and headed inside, bouncing Nel playfully before sweeping her down into his arms, looking around for the pink haired Espada who usually wasn't too far away from the experiments littering his every work surface.

“Yo, Szayel, ya here?” He called out, venturing further inside.

“Yes, yes I'm here. Give me a moment.” The exasperated tones of the scientist came from a side room, “Goodness me I don't know how I ever get any work done with people always coming in and out of here. Treating it like a blasted hotel.”

“My apologies, Szayel,” Aizen brushed his fingers over one of the counters, “I thought I would be welcome within the many walls of my own home.”

The startled squawk that followed made Shiro chuckle, instantly a bespectacled face appeared in the doorway, whiskey eyes wide, “I am terribly sorry Aizen-sama! I had no idea you were here as well. What can I help-”

The scientists eyes lifted towards the child in his arms and Szayel's whole demeanour changed momentarily, fingers tightening on the wooden door frame as an audible gulp refused to escape Shiro's notice.

“I found her in the sands. Aizen-sama suggested maybe you would be able to reverse the damage done to her mask and restore her to her true form.” The Cero explained.

She let out a small gasp as she saw the pink haired Espada, whispering more to herself than anyone else, “Szayel-sama, Octavo Espada...”

“N-Nelliel...” Szayel half staggered from the side room, hurrying over to them and guiding them to one of the medical beds, “I wasn't sure we would ever see her again. What... Fortune that you found her...”

Frowning at his tone of voice, Shiro carefully laid Nel on the bed, smiling faintly at how it dwarfed her in size, “It was definitely lucky. So what do ya think, can ya help her?”

“I'd need to run some tests.” The pink haired Espada waved a hand to shoo him aside, “And perhaps conduct a few experiments... But the damage seems quite extensive. Does she remember who she was?”

“Nel is Nel!” She piped up, crawling down the bed towards the white Hollow and lifting her arms expectantly, “Right, Shiro?”

He couldn't help but grin at her, she was utterly adorable and he instantly scooped her up as she requested, bouncing her gently in his arms, “Too right, kid.”

“That's a no then.” The scientist muttered to himself before he stared at them, raising an eyebrow, “Does she have any idea who and what you are?”

Chuckling as he felt Nel nuzzling his neck again, he rubbed her back, “Course she does. She doesn't mind. I think she's just glad someone can keep her safe.”

“And you are fine for her to address you so... Casually?”

Blinking, he stared at Szayel, “I don't care about titles and all that... I just want her to be safe and happy.” He stroked his fingers through her hair gently, “I can't help but wonder who could have hurt her though... Leavin' her out in the sands like that...”

“It would take a certain sort of person for sure.” The scientist sighed.

The Cero's eyes narrowed as he saw Szayel's hands shake very slightly at his thoughts, and he clenched his teeth, shuffling Nel until she was balanced on his hip again he snatched a hand out and grabbed the front of the Octavo's uniform, yanking him closer.

“Ya know somethin'.” He stated.

Whiskey eyes flicked to Aizen for a moment, probably in hopes of being rescued from the bipolar attitude of the albino.

“If you are aware of anything relating to her injuries... I would suggest you share it quickly.” Aizen said simply.

“Alright!” He squeaked, recoiling slightly at the flare of anger on the albino's face, “Nnoitra came to me a few years ago and asked to borrow some technology. It was before I became the Octavo, and it was a no questions asked agreement. The next day... Nelliel was reported missing.”

Releasing his grip instantly, Shiro glanced down at Nel, his eyes lingering on her scar and her broken mask, there was a tremble of anger that quivered through him. He knew Nnoitra hated losing, the only reason he handled it so well when they sparred was because he knew he could have a rematch whenever he wanted one, but the idea that the man had used some kind of artificial ability to ensure his victory made him seem pathetic.

“Did he know she had survived?”

Szayel was going to hold his tongue, but a single look from Aizen brought his voice forwards, “Yes. He threw her and her Fracción from the roof.”

Shiro put Nel down on the bed instantly, through fear that he might break her as his grip tightened. He puffed out a long breath and rested his hands on the end of the mattress, “Did ya have any idea about any of this?” He asked the brunet beside him, shooting him a questioning glance.

“I suspected Nnoitra had a hand in her disappearance, but I had no idea she was still alive.” Came an honest sounding reply, “He will be punished for this, I promise you that.”

“Let me deal with him.” The white Hollow's question came out as more of a demand but he looked the man in the eye, trying to convey the need he felt to sort the Quinto out, to avenge Nel's shattered life, “Please?”

Aizen stared at him for several long moments, the tension in the laboratory was almost palpable, brunet eyes flicked down to the large and curious hazel ones belonging to the child Espada on the bed, her head was tilted on one side and her mouth was hanging open, flashing sharp teeth. He was taken aback by the way she was looking at his Cero Espada, there was adoration, affection, admiration. He couldn't work out why Shiro felt so attached to someone he'd met less than an hour previously, and then it hit him.

“She reminds you of the twins.” He said aloud, raising an eyebrow as his Cero flinched.

“The twins?” Szayel repeated curiously.

Shiro gritted his teeth to the point of pain, lowering his gaze as embarrassment struck him like a slap to the face, “She does.”

“Do not kill him. Do not remove his mask. Anything else is permissible.”

Gold eyes snapped to brown and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, “Understood.” He hesitated and glanced at Nel, he didn't want to leave her with Szayel, but he didn't want to assume he could ask Aizen to look after her either, “Nel... How are ya with blood?”

She blinked once and broke into a broad smile, “It's like paint!”

Shiro snorted and picked her up, slipping her back onto his shoulders with a fluid ease, “I like this kid.” He turned and began walking towards the doors, pausing for a moment to glance at Szayel, “I'll be bringin' her back afterwards, make sure yer ready to help her and I might forget that ya gave Nnoitra the technology that allowed him to hurt her.”

He heard the pink haired Espada squeak and chuckled to himself as he left the scientist's palace, hesitating for only a brief heartbeat as Aizen fell into step beside him. He half expected to receive a reprimand about his threat towards the Octavo, and was pleasantly surprised when none came.

“When I'm finished with everythin'... Can I come and see ya?” Shiro asked quietly, “There's... There's somethin' I need to talk to ya about...”

“My door is always open to you, Shiro. No matter the reason, you are always welcome to come and see me.” Aizen looked down at him, expression guarded despite the openness of his invitation.

“Thanks.” He whispered, watching as the brunet disappeared from his side, the soft buzz of Shunpo echoing in his ears.

He couldn't help but desperately hope for one of those 'reasons' to end up being sex. Although, after admitting to his earlier actions with Byakuya it was highly possible Aizen would never touch him again. He'd be left to remember the moments when he'd taken over Ichigo's body just enough to blanket out his memory and inhibitions, moments when his polychromatic partner was so angry or distressed that he needed a break. Aizen was the only one who'd been able to calm him.

He longed for that touch, the roughness, the aggression, the knowledge that no matter how strong he became, he would always submit to Sōsuke Aizen. He just hoped he hadn't ruined everything.

He would deal with Nnoitra's punishment, he would return to Szayel and see if there was hope for Nel and then he would find someone he trusted to look after the child Espada in his absence. Only then could he face Aizen with a clear conscience to tell him what he'd done.

“Let's go, kid.” He muttered softly as he started walking again.

He could sense Nnoitra's reiatsu in the recreation room again, this time with Starrk, Harribel and Grimmjow. Shiro wasn't at all keen on the idea of coming face to face with the Sexta again, but he knew he couldn't walk away from it. He couldn't allow them to think he was afraid. And he owed it to Nel to deal with Nnoitra properly.

Shoving the doors open with force, golden eyes came to fix on the huddle of Espada near the bookshelves. They seemed to be deep in conversation, but felt silent the moment they set eyes on him.

“Sorry to break up ya little knittin' session.” He grinned widely, raising his eyebrows as he prowled closer.

Grimmjow's eyes were fixed on him, full of anger and borderline hate. Byakuya had undoubtedly been forced to explain what had happened while the Sexta was unconscious.

“Not at all, feel free to join us if you wish, my friend.” Starrk's baritone was as soothing as ever, “But who is this little one you have with you? She is familiar to me.”

Eyes slowly flicked across to Nnoitra's face and he saw the lanky Arrancar tense under his scrutiny, his smile widened as he looked back at the Primera, “This is Nel. Former Tres Espada. Found her wanderin' out in the sands all alone, couldn't bring myself to just leave her there.”

“What you just... Stumbled across her?” Nnoitra's voice didn't shake as he spoke, which impressed Shiro at least a little, “Gotta be kidding, she's been missing for years.”

“Oh I am aware.” He fixed the Quinto with a silencing look, it was all smiles and teeth but his eyes swirled with a darkened malice.

“What happened to her?” Harribel's voice cut through the moment of tension like a balm, “Her mask... That scar...”

“Funny you should ask that...” He swung his head around to look at the busty blonde, offering a nonchalant chuckle as his left hand swatted out and wrapped around Nnoitra's throat, dragging him from his chair faster than the other Espada could respond, “This piece of shit. Ain't that right, Nnoitra?”

The Quinto's eyes were wide as he glanced towards the other Espada, “I-I dunno what the fuck you mean!”

“Bullshit.” He purred, squeezing his fingers a little tighter, “Spoken to Szayel. I _know_ about the tech you 'borrowed' the night Nelliel went missin'. Not satisfied with losin' against someone better than ya, ya resorted to dirty underhand tricks. That I can handle... Just about. But ya _left her_ out there in the sands... When she had turned into a kid?!”

“She had her fucking Fracción with her, ain't my fault they were fucking useless after...” His voice cut off sharply as he bit his tongue, glaring at the smiling child on the Cero's shoulders.

“After what?” He growled, threat level increasing as he saw that single grey eye move towards Nel, “What did ya do?”

“Answer him.” Harribel commanded, getting to her feet as she appraised the Quinto with disgust.

“Tell him.” Starrk seconded, also getting out of his chair as he frowned.

“She never fought without a fucking reason, so I gave her one!” He snapped, “It was pathetic, the way she doted on those low lives, treated 'em like family. It was pitiful. But she 'loved' 'em. Ain't my fault that their masks popped off in my hands.”

The startled gasp from the current Tres Espada was something of a reward for Shiro, pleased that he wasn't the only one disgusted by Nnoitra's behaviour, he released the lanky man, letting out a slow and steady breath before he reached up and prised Nel from his shoulders, turning sharply he half forced the child sized Arrancar into Starrk's arms.

A hand lifted to where Zangetsu sat on his back and he pulled the blade free, throwing it to Harribel before he turned and planted his fist straight into the Quinto's gut, watching with satisfaction as he doubled over immediately, “Yer fuckin' lucky Aizen-sama ordered me not to kill ya. But he didn't say anythin' about beatin' ya within an inch of life.”

Twirling on the spot, he smashed foot into the crease of the other Espada's knee, watching as the limb gave out in response, he jutted his own knee upwards, cracking it into the underside of his exposed chin. His fingers laced through slick strands of hair as he headbutted Nnoitra twice in quick succession, throwing him backwards as he bounced lithely on the balls of his feet.

“Why do you care so much?!” The Quinto snapped, holding his bleeding and broken nose, glowering across at the white Hollow, “You didn't even know her! She would have annoyed the fuck out of you as well! Yer a fighter, a bloodthirsty killer, she would have hated yer guts!”

“No more than everyone else in this place already does!” He barked back, teeth clenched with the weight of his words, “Don't think I ain't noticed the snide side looks, the whisperin' and the reluctance to accept my fuckin' insanity. I ain't blind! That kid is the only one who's fuckin' looked at me without quiverin' and smiled!”

“It won't last!” The other bit back, “Look at you! Even now, that desire for destruction is pumping through you! I bet the only reason you found her is because you sensed a strong presence and wanted to kill it!”

Shiro froze, his mouth falling open at the very accurate, very painful accusation. His shoulders sagged almost immediately as he saw the triumphant and knowing smirk that stretched across Nnoitra's face. He lowered his fists slowly, his expression turning into a deep set frown.

He hated the fact that Nnoitra was right. He hated the fact that his first reaction had been to kill Nel. He hated the fact that they all seemed to know that. He felt a sharp ache stab at his chest, his hand flying to it and grasping tightly at the material covering the area, the pain must have down on his face because Nnoitra's expression instantly changed to one of concern; he sensed Harribel approaching and he shot her the most murderous expression he could manage.

“Don't.” He spat, eyes flitting towards where Nel was squirming around in Starrk's arms, trying to reach out for him, “Harribel, escort the Quinto to the detention block. He is to remain there for five days, with his reiatsu suppressed. No visitors. And have his injuries seen to by the Human girl, I believe she will be more than adept at handlin' them.”

“Of course, Cero.” The blonde bowed her head and quickly motioned for Nnoitra to follow her, which he did without complaint, surprisingly.

Once he heard the door close behind the pair, he clenched his hand into a fist, “Starrk... I told Szayel that I would be returnin' to his lab with Nel so that he could run some tests, to see if he can fix the damage caused by Nnoitra.”

“My friend, would you like me to take her in your stead?”

He thanked the Soul King that the Primera was both intelligent, observant and handsome, “If ya would be so kind. Might I ask ya to take care of her this evenin' for me? Aizen-sama is gonna prepare stuff for me to look after her but... With Lilynette bein' in yer care I figured ya would have some stuff to keep her... Safe?”

“I'd be more than happy to look after her for you.” The Primera bowed his head, holding the squirming child against his chest.

Shiro approached, gently stroking her cheek, “I'll come and get you tomorrow, Nel. I have to... I have to deal with some shit. Starrk is gonna keep ya safe for me, okay?”

“Okay.” She was pouting but stopped squirming quite as much, “Nel will miss Shiro.”

“I'll miss ya too kid.” He swallowed and stepped back, looking at the floor.

He heard the door close again as Starrk left the recreation area, his body tensing as he sensed Grimmjow. He could almost feel the Sexta's anger at him, it rippled from his body in waves. Lifting his gaze, he found himself face to face with the blue haired man.

“How's Kuchiki?” He asked stiffly.

“How the fuck do you think he is?” Grimmjow spat in return, arms folded over his chest.

Shiro winced at the venom in his voice and let out a small breath, “He told ya what happened then...”

“It didn't need sayin'. It was kinda obvious, you fuckin' prick.” His voice was gruff, “Stay away from him.”

“I didn't realise you had the authority to forbid me from seein' prisoners.”

Grimmjow's hand was gripping his shihakusho quite abruptly, dragging him closer, “I don't give a shit how strong you are... If you come near him again I will do whatever it takes to bring you down.”

“I have no intention... Of going near him again.” He muttered, glaring back at him.

“Good thing too.” The Sexta released him and gave him a shove in the chest before he stormed towards the doors, leaving without so much as another word.

Watching as the Sexta hastily retreated, he clicked his tongue against his teeth, the smell of solitude was lingering around him like a decaying corpse, swirling like a blackened mist that clung to his skin and his clothes like smoke, the stench working its way deep inside the material and making a home. He allowed his body to sag again as emptiness restored itself to his chest where the aching pain had been.

He loathed the fact Nnoitra had read him so easily. He loathed the fact the Quinto had been so right. Why did his first instinct always have to be violence and murder? He could have killed Nel with one swing, and then where would he be?!

Deflated, he left the recreation room, pulling all of his residual reiatsu inwards to protect the lives of the lesser Hollows he passed, he lust for death diminished by the grim mood hanging over his head. Disinterested in where his feet were taking him, he found himself on the roof of Las Noches, sitting on the top of one of the only stark white towers left from his battle with Ulquiorra.

The area still stank of battle. The damage was superficial and wouldn't be repaired until the inside of the palace was. The unruly devastation and crumbled stone made him feel a little more at home, it was like a welcoming embrace, a memory of where he had first been able to completely be himself.

He hadn't seen or heard anything of Ulquiorra since that day, by all accounts his injuries had been healed by the Human girl in the cells though nothing had been done about his removed mask. He'd heard some of the Fracción talking about it, about how the Cuatro was a shadow of his former self, ability to speak and communicate gone, his ability to understand and reason intact enough for him to follow basic orders. By all accounts, he was working in the kitchens to help prepare food.

Glaring out across the sands, feeling the moonlight on his skin, he considered Aizen's promise. For him to have a place he could exist without holding back. Sure enough he had that in the company of the Espada, but what was the use if they couldn't stand to be in the same room as him unless he was holding back his insanity?

Was this his curse if he wanted to breathe fresh air? Was this the burden he had to carry if he wanted to be the dominant soul? Was this the life he had to lead if he wanted to keep Ichigo buried? Was it worth it?

Shiro hated him. He hated the strawberry haired, determination ridden, stubborn, hard headed, arrogant, selfless bastard. He hated him with every fibre of his being. He hated how he relied on his friends, how he let them rely on him in return, he hated how he'd do whatever it took to protect the people he loved, how he'd put their shared life at risk for others. He hated his drive, his beauty, his inner warmth, he hated the memory of his family, his friends, his life.

But Shiro loved him too. He loved the strawberry haired, determination ridden, stubborn, hard headed, arrogant, selfless bastard. He loved him with every fibre of his being. He loved his fire, his drive, his determination to right his wrongs. He loved his dedication to his friends, his willingness to protect them at all costs. He loved the memory of his family, his friends, his life.

He loved and hated him, almost as much as he loved and hated himself.

Insanity kept it at bay. Kept him from realising the horrid truths about himself. His past. His sins. He was as white as snow, as pure as an angel and yet he couldn't have been any blacker on the inside. He was a monster, an animal so ravaged by sin that he couldn't think straight even if he tried. He was a devil clad in white, paraded around like a benevolent leader, when all he was in truth was a malevolent poison.

He scoffed, sitting up slowly and resting his head in his hands as a burst of miserable, hysterical laughter overtook his every sense, shaking him to the core as his chest tightened and his body throbbed in resistance.

These moments, between the crazy and the calm were where he hated lingering. It was when he became the most perceptive about himself. It was dangerous, uncomfortable and almost always painful. Like a grey area in between two extremes, an area he couldn't habitat for long without destruction following.

Groaning quietly as he forced himself back up. Shiro knew there was no use hiding, even though every particle of his body wanted nothing else. He had to face Aizen. This was a conflict he couldn't run from.

Shiro hesitated for just long enough to glare up at the half moon again, lifting a hand as he tried to blot out the light with his palm. It's light would be fuller if all of it was there. If it was complete. But was completion really necessary in order to bring greater power?


	56. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still reeling after his encounter with Nnoitra, Shiro finally heads to the King's Suite to confess all to Aizen.

Shiro hovered outside of the King's Suite, hand resting on the door as he mustered the courage to go inside. He could feel the ever steady and constant reiatsu that could only belong to Aizen, he seemed so serene and relaxed based on the subtle thrum of energy.

He'd passed two of Barragan's Fracción on the way, by the looks of things they had been on cleaning duty to ensure the King's Suite was in pristine condition. Not an enviable job, but they clearly still felt smug enough to sneer at him as he passed them.

“I'm comin' in.” He said loudly, more to prevent him having the chance to back out.

Pushing the door open Shiro was taken by surprise at the sight of several candles spattering surfaces, providing a pleasantly intimate illumination across the vast room. For once, Aizen wasn't sat behind his desk working, he was reclining on the long couch near the balcony with a cup of tea in hand, his long white coat discarded in favour of his simple white shihakusho.

“I was beginning to think I would have to drag you in, again.” Aizen's voice was coloured with amusement, but his gaze was stern as he appraised the albino, “What happened with Nnoitra? I sensed you becoming distressed, only to disappear up onto the roof.”

Striding up the few steps towards the man, he lowered himself onto one knee and looked up at him in surprise, “Nothin' I just... Needed some space.”

“What did Nnoitra say to make you change your mind about punishing him yourself?” Eyebrows raised at his vague answer.

Shiro's eyes narrowed, “Ya were watchin'.”

“Of course.” Aizen chuckled, leaning forwards as he rested his elbows on his knees, “What did he say?”

He tutted and dragged his eyes away again, “Nothin' important. Just... That Nel would hate me in her true form... Because she hates mindless violence.”

The brunet Shinigami chuckled softly at his answer, “I see. It is true, Nelliel never did like fighting for the sake of fighting. But neither you, nor Ichigo, have ever truly done that. There was always a reason, no matter how small it may have seemed at the time. Whether it was to save a friend, to save yourselves, to right a wrong, or protect someone's pride. They are admirable reasons to fight.”

He shrugged, “Not always though. I always wanna fight, that thrill and adrenaline of battle... It's an addiction I can't shake. Violence is always... What I turn to first.”

“It is who you are.” Aizen raised one perfect eyebrow, “All of my Espada are warriors, whether reluctantly or not. Battle comes to us all eventually.”

“I guess that's true.” Gold eyes lowered glumly as his stiff posture loosened.

“But that's not the end of what is troubling you, is it?”

Shiro's heart was racing in his chest, his gut churning to the point of making him feel sick. He had this awful, awful feeling that Aizen already knew. He had eyes everywhere in Las Noches. There was rarely an event that happened in the palace that Aizen wasn't aware of. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

“I... I fucked up.” He said quietly, mouth dry, “I made a mistake and... It's been eatin' me up ever since...”

“I see.” There was a muted harshness to the Shinigami's tone now, “Would this... Mistake have anything to do my Sexta Espada and his house guest?”

He gulped painfully hard, “Yes... They came up with a plan... A stupid fuckin' plan and I fell for it...” He bit his lip hard, blurting it would suddenly, “I fucked Byakuya.”

“I know.”

Shiro looked up sharply, he barely had time to react before he felt the hardness of the wall against his back as he was thrown against it, Aizen was in front of him, hands pressed firmly against the wall either side of his head. There wasn't anger in the man's eyes, just a prominent disappointed look on his face. The crease between his eyebrows, the tightness around his mouth.

“How?” The albino asked quietly.

“As you have probably already considered... I have eyes everywhere.” Aizen seemed to examine his face for a long moment, sighing softly, “I was going to wait, I wanted to see how long it would take you to admit to what happened. I'm surprised, I truly expected you to try and hide it.”

“Why would I hide it?” Shiro frowned, “It wasn't me... Not properly me... I wasn't myself... I regretted it straight away and... And...”

“It is fortunate for you that I saw as much as I did, enough for me to know that you are telling the truth. I'm not sure what came over you, or why you allowed it to guide you to break my rules but I am _very_ disappointed.”

“I'm sorry.” Gold eyes tried to look anywhere but the Shinigami's face, failing as a tiny surge of anger and sadness rose up in the midst of his regrets, “Why did ya make me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why... Why did ya make me?” He said again, “Even if Ichigo hadn't jumped in the way, yer desire would have been the same... If it hadn't been him it would have been Isshin or Masaki... I don't understand my place in the world! And it seems like no one else does either. The Espada... They fear me... Hate me... Why am I here?”

For the first time in a long time, Aizen found himself momentarily speechless at the perception of the Hollow he had created, there was the smallest of frowns settled between his eyebrows, a motion which would have been invisible to anyone who didn't know him. However, he was painfully aware that Shiro _did_ know him. Probably better than anyone else alive. That was why the truth sprang forward quicker than he could quash it.

“I desired an equal. Somehow, the Hōgyoku discerned that you were that.” He murmured, “I have always been powerful, more so than any other being I have ever encountered. Spending centuries like that tends to alter your perceptions of those around you. I wanted to know if I could make someone as strong as I am, hence my experiments began on Hollows and Shinigami alike. I never imagined the truest form of my desire would come in the form of a completely artificially created being.”

Shiro bristled, temper rising, “Artificial? Arti- Are ya kiddin' me?!”

The brunet stared for a moment, surprised by the sharpness of the other's voice, and then realisation struck him, “You... Didn't realise.”

The Hollow growled, bringing his hands up as he tried to push Aizen away from him, “I thought... I dunno what I thought! That I was... A mirror of him... A carbon copy flipped upside down...”

“Shiro...”

“No!” He barked, fingers digging into his shihakusho, “What am I?!”

Aizen raised an eyebrow at his reaction, tilting his head, “The Hōgyoku behaves all on its own, unique and unhindered by the heart. It's sole purpose is to fulfil its master's desire. It only ever creates perfection.”

“Stop dancin' around it! What am I?!” His voice raised an octave, almost a shriek escaping him.

Sighing softly, the Shinigami's hands slid from the wall to cup the pale face of the Cero Espada, thumbs rubbing circles under those angry golden eyes, “The fusion of Ichigo's untapped power and my desire for an equal. The perfect life form.”

Shiro stopped and stared, his mouth falling open as he struggled to find the words, “Ya think... That I'm perfect?”

“That is what I said, was it not?” Aizen hesitated for a moment to let those words sink in before he snagged some of the loose moonshine silver locks that trickled down the Cero's chest, curling them around his fingers, “You know me well enough, I should hope, to acknowledge that I rarely consider anything perfect.”

Swallowing thickly, he watched as his hair was toyed with, his heart thundering in his chest as his mind turned into a roller-coaster of different thoughts, “But ya wanted Ichigo, just like everyone else.” He said stubbornly.

“I did.” The brunet agreed, his other hand coming up and tucking beneath the Hollow's chin, forcing their gazes to meet, “I admit that from the moment I met him I was enamoured by his courage and his persistence, his willingness to do whatever I desired or required. I believed he was my equal, and offered him a place at my side as a result of that.”

“I ain't a consolation prize.”

“I would never refer to you as such.” It was plain, simple but sounded honest, “I gave you my word that I would give you a chance to prove yourself. I have watched how hard you have tried to mingle with the Espada, how you have tried to temper your nature to better suit them, to make them comfortable.”

He flinched, he couldn't move and he wasn't sure he wanted to, but his lips remained turned downwards in displeasure, “What of it?”

“It should be obvious, shouldn't it? One such as yourself should _never_ be anything other than what you are.” Fingers ghosted a pale cheek thoughtfully, “Ichigo for all his virtues, was incapable of even trying to change; he played the game that was required. You however, while forever being true to yourself have tried to create bonds despite your own anxieties.”

“And yer point is?” He huffed.

“My point is, my dear Cero Espada... My dear Shiro...” Warm breath tickled at snowy skin as the brunet leaned closer, “You have proven yourself to me.”

Shiro blinked, not entirely sure he'd heard him right. His eyes widened abruptly as he felt soft lips touch against his own. The action was gentle but firm, with no permission being given as he sank into the touch, eyes slipping shut contentedly as his hands rested on the first chest in front of him. His breathing stuttered shakily through his nose as a tongue swiped experimentally across his bottom lip, demanding entrance which he was only too happy to give. A gasp leaked free as hands fisted around his waist, hoisting them until there was no room, no space between them.

He pulled back for breath, as reluctant as the motion was. Shiro lifted his hands, clasping Aizen's face as he looked deeply into those warm chocolate eyes, “W-What about... What I told ya... With Bya-”

A finger covered his lips, “Don't. Don't even say his name again. I can be forgiving. It simply means I shall have to make the effort to... Reclaim what is _mine_.”

Shiro's head was spinning, his heart pounding, his chest tightening as every negative thought that had plagued him fizzled out of existence in the wake of acceptance from the one person the mattered. The one person who had always mattered. The _only_ person who had ever mattered.

Arms snaking around broad shoulders, he allowed himself to capsize into willing submission, his body submerged in tingling trepidation he'd scarcely felt outside of battle. This was different to the times before, those stolen moments when he'd restrained Ichigo's consciousness and taken control, lingering touches and experiences that had seemed out of place, due only to the second skin of Ichigo's body between him and Aizen.

It had been like wearing a Gigai, trapped in a layer of something that he couldn't shed, couldn't remove, couldn't be free of, his movements entrapped and sluggish compared to what he had wanted. Ichigo had been a bind, a pair of shackles several sizes too small, restricting him, taming him, keeping him locked away, keeping every experience selfishly.

No more.

He tore his lips away to suck in a much needed breath, his eyes alive with a brightness all of its own as he scanned the tanned face that had become clasped between his pale palms, his body was quivering against the Shinigami, his world on fire for the first time.

“Swear to me.” He whispered.

“Swear what?” Came the hoarse reply, Aizen was a man who reeked of composure, but even he was ruffled, however faintly it was.

“Swear that ya mean it, that ya want me and not him. He's never comin' back. I'll never have orange hair, or tanned skin, my eyes will never be brown. I'll only ever be white, I'll only ever be Hollow, I'll only ever be insane and tormented and wild. Swear to me that it's what ya want! Because I won't change, not even for-” He was silenced by another kiss, his body arching at the contact as he was swept quite literally off his feet, legs hoisted around the waist of the man he was connected to.

“I promise.”

Heat flooded his cheeks, turning pale skin pink with fever. The promise was unmistakable from the way he felt arms encircling him, possessiveness washing over him and claiming him until it was almost too hard to breathe properly. He'd felt that greed before, only ever directed at Ichigo, but now it was focused on him with such totality he thought he might wither beneath its intensity.

Allowing himself to be guided across the room, he heard the fumbling of a door handle and the small creak of hinges opening. Clothes were torn away in impatience, tossed aside for later and Shiro couldn't help but catch his breath as his eyes glanced over the taut muscular expanse of Aizen's body. Strong and firm, unblemished, untouched, un-

“What the fuck is that?” His eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline as his hands slid down from broad shoulders to curiously swirl around the pulsing orb of light that was nestled in the very centre of the man's chest, he felt pulled in by its presence, sucked in and embraced. It was almost homely.

“The Hōgyoku.” Aizen replied, his voice steady despite his breathlessness, his hands rested on the white Hollow's hips as he allowed pale hands to explore, “I have subjugated it, mastering its powers at long last.”

Swirling mists of blue, green, purple and pink coiled together in a deceptively sparkling entity which had a sense all of its own. It almost seemed to glow with the whorls of colour kept within it.

Lips parting in surprise, Shiro sucked in a small breath, “It's beautiful.” He couldn't believe this little thing was the source of his creation, the very thing that had brought him life. It was so unbelievably small, looked so fragile and yet it's presence was overwhelming. He could almost feel it reaching out into his head, clawing at everything that made him exist.

“Yes, it is.” The brunet agreed, sliding his fingers beneath the Hollow's chin and drawing him up into a deep set kiss, soft lips crushed together as nimble fingers made short work of the white shihakusho still covering the Espada.

Shiro barely had time to flush at his sudden nudity before he was hit by the warm spray of water. It was only then as he was gasping and forced to push his hair back off his face, that he realised they were in the bathroom and he had been guided into the walk-in shower. He flashed a glare at the brunet but it soon changed to laughter as he reached out and yanked Aizen under the spray too.

Their lips met again, pale hands sliding up and around the brunet's shoulders as he pulled him as close as he could. His eyes slipped shut as a groan of arousal seeped from between their mouths. He wasn't sure who it belonged to.

Back hitting the cool tiles of the shower wall, Shiro bit his lip as his legs were lifted around the Shinigami's waist again, he tightened them, digging his fingers into curls of brown hair as he felt lips gliding down his throat, tongue dancing a wet pattern. Tracing his jugular and pulse point before teeth dug deep, splitting the skin viciously and leaving a mark that would bruise prominently against his pale complexion. His hiss was one of pain and pleasure combined, body arching in response as his erection ached between them.

“I'm sure you recall,” Aizen's breath was warm on the shell of his ear, “I am possessive of what I consider to be mine.”

“Is that what I am?” He tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression, yelping as a harsh bite was added to his earlobe.

“What ever gave you the impression that you were anything else?”

Shiro groaned loudly at that, shamefully. He probably shouldn't have been quite as turned on as he was at the less than subtle control being exerted over him, but he couldn't help himself. He was, at least in the most basic of ways, a Hollow. He was all about instinct and power. And when confronted with someone obviously stronger, forceful and demanding than himself... It was instinctual to submit.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the sensation of fingers wrapping around his length, stroking movements firm and unforgiving as his arousal was drawn to fullness by the simple action. Moans were drawn from him easily, his pale skin flushing as a faint sheen of sweat began to glimmer under the faint patters of moonlight seeping through the bathroom window.

Another bite was added to the original, about three inches lower, on the crest of his collarbone. He didn't complain, he arched, asking silently for more as he allowed his fingers to comb through brown hair again, holding him closer and letting out a sharp cry of pleasure as Aizen's free hand slipped lower between his legs, fingers circling his entrance almost teasingly before plunging inside.

Somewhere along the way a lubricant of some kind had been produced, the slickness coating Aizen's fingers was alluring and perverse at the same time, drawing his hips into action as Shiro rocked between both sources of pleasure.

Whimpering pathetically as Aizen's hands left him his eyes fluttered open, which took him by surprise as he didn't recall closing them. A small squeak of surprise escaped him as his legs were dropped, a forceful grasp in his hair guiding him to turn around, his hands pressing against the shower wall. The grip on his snowy damp locks wasn't removed, instead it tightened, drawing his head back awkwardly and driving a guttural sound from him as he felt the brunet's cock pressing between his buttocks, sliding inside without a moment of warning.

His body quaked at the feeling of completion, his mind alive with a trilogy of thoughts that he couldn't quite silence. In some ways he supposed this was his first time, it had never been _his_ body that had received Aizen before, it had been Ichigo's. That thought made his skin tingle with a blissful warmth that left his stomach tied in knots as his face was pressed unceremoniously against the cool tiles, his mouth falling open as a shout of pleasure washed him away, the feeling of rough and jagged movements making his toes curl, each thrust and rock of hips sending zings of unquestionable delight through him.

A biting grip dug into his hip, holding him in place as he clawed at the wall, his body aching as his prostate was struck over and over again, over sensitive and over stimulated, the enjoyment bordered on pain, which made it all the better. He was sure he was going to go mad as he felt Aizen's chest press against his spine, warm lips marking every inch of skin they could reach as the pace increased, brutal and feverish until fingers coiled around his aching manhood and mimicked the movements of the man behind him.

“A-Aizen-sama...” His voice was strained, desperation growing as he felt the spiralling of his gut getting worse by the second, the only warning he had that orgasm was close.

A nip to the ear, a puff of breath following, “I want to hear you say my name.” The growl was heated, urgent, Aizen was close as well.

Golden eyes widened faintly, such a demand was a rare honour, his first name had never passed his lips as far as he could remember, he whimpered, body shaking as his back arched, eyes squeezing shut as his climax washed over him, a single hoarse shout breaking free, “S-Sōsuke!”

It was all it took, the sound of his name and the feeling of his Cero Espada's body tightening around his own, and he was shoved well and truly over the edge as well, Aizen's body stiffened, thrusting deeply as his own orgasm took control, his fingers leaving bruising marks on the Hollow's hips, ensuring he didn't collapse.

Shiro's head was hanging, his shoulders slack as a wave of exhaustion took him. He would have fallen had it not been for the almost painful grip around his waist. Whining softly as he felt Aizen withdraw from his body, only to feel hands return lathered with soapy suds. His eyelids fluttered shyly as he was washed. This had never happened before. This was entirely new. For some reason it made him giddy with delight.

“I told you once... When you were stood at my side things would be different. I meant that.” Aizen's voice was surprisingly level despite the sex, “I am also aware that this was your first time, technically. So I intend to take care of you.”

“Thank ya.” He whispered softly, leaning back against Aizen's chest as fingers worked through his long hair.

There was a sudden chuckle against his neck, “Don't get to comfortable, Shiro. Your healing abilities are vastly superior to anyone else I have ever met... I intend to make use of that and christen every inch of the King's Suite with your body before the night is over.”

Shiro's compliant weariness seemed to fade in the wake of a breathtaking smirk as his eyes twinkled with excitement, “Oh I'm sure I won't disappoint ya... Sōsuke.”

And he didn't disappoint. They fucked in every room, on every surface possible, making as much noise as they wanted, allowing their reiatsu to flow free and tangle together. A silent message to all in Las Noches: the King had his consort.

By the time morning should have been breaking, Shiro was littered with more marks than he cared to heal, and Aizen bore many of the same. They lay together on the giant bed, pillows scattered across the bedroom in untidy piles.

Moaning contentedly, Shiro began to move, shuffling towards the edge of the bed only to be halted by a hand catching his wrist. He looked around, voice barely functioning a small sound left him instead, head tilting questioningly.

“I said before... Things are different now.” Even Aizen's voice was a little strained at this point, but the half grin, half smirk on his face helped him carry it off regardless, “Stay.” He seemed to add as an afterthought to make sure he was understood.

Blinking, the Cero lowered himself back down, wincing faintly at the uncontrollable ache throbbing in his spine. He would recover quickly, and in a way he wished he could enjoy all the aches and pains and discomforts for longer. He hovered on his side for a long moment before creeping closer, permitting himself to rest his head on the Shinigami's shoulder. When the action was not refused, he closed his eyes, shuffling as close as he could, draping an arm over Aizen's middle as he allowed a long satisfied breath to break free.

“You may consider the rule concerning... Not sleeping in my bed forgotten.” It was a quiet statement, Shiro almost thought he hadn't hear it at all for a moment, but he felt an arm coming to rest around his waist as the covers were thrown over him and he was pulled deceptively closer to the warmth of the Shinigami beside him.

Evil, violent, cruel, manipulative. God he loved this man. He'd never say it to his face, never admit it to him, knowing it would never be returned. He was more than aware that Aizen knew of his feelings, and it was something neither of them would ever discuss. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.

Fuck Ichigo. Fuck Byakuya. Fuck the Espada. And fuck Zangetsu too, the bastard had refused to speak to him since his hostile take over of Ichigo's body. Fuck them all. He had what he wanted. What he had always wanted. He wasn't going to give it up for anything, or anyone.


	57. Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya, while recovering from his encounter with Shiro earlier in the day, becomes the listener for the Espada's growing list of problems.

Byakuya winced subtly as he shifted in his seat, fingers pinching the book he was reading just a little tighter as a zing of pain shot up his legs and down his back. The thrumming dull ache of his... Encounter with Shiro had lingered despite the hours which had passed since, and the dark purple bruises on his thighs and hips did nothing but exaggerate the severity.

The nobleman sighed heavily, taking a moment to run a hand down his face as his shame momentarily welled up again. The heat, the wash of pleasure, exhilaration. The guilt of betraying Ichigo, of betraying himself too. Everything would be different if the plan had worked, everything would be different if Ichigo had be roused. But, alas...

“We have a massive fuckin' problem!”

Byakuya's head snapped up as Grimmjow's voice howled from the front door, he watched as the blue haired Espada stalked through his private quarters, flanked by Harribel until they found him. He could tell from the looks on their faces that the Sexta had not been exaggerating with his declaration.

“What is it?” He asked, getting to his feet with a slow and deliberate carefulness, “What happened?”

“Cero's off his nut, that's what.” Grimmjow ran a hand down his face and swore loudly, “Sit down, I'm getting' a drink before I explain any of this shit.”

The nobleman complied. Grimmjow had been rattled ever since waking up after Shiro's... Appearance in his quarters. The Sexta had put two and two together upon seeing the state of the bedroom and the delicate mental state of the Kuchiki heir.

It had not been one of Byakuya's proudest moments, leaving the scalding heat of the shower to face the full fury of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques demanding to know if he was hurt. The Sexta's first assumption had been that Shiro had forced himself on the noble. Byakuya wasn't certain what was more mortifying. Having to correct him and explain it had been consensual, or the momentary belief that the alternative would have been easier to explain.

He was in control of himself now, however. Meditation, relaxation and reading had helped him reclaim at least a little dignity. And Grimmjow had vowed not to speak of it to another living soul. Byakuya believed him implicitly.

The raven haired Shinigami cast an eye over towards Harribel and blinked as he noticed she was carrying Zangetsu. She let out a shaky breath and joined him on the sofa, resting the huge blade on the floor by her feet as she dropped her head into her hands, an usual sign of stress in the taciturn woman.

He was patient, and when Grimmjow returned with a bottle of saké and three cups, he knew it was serious, he had never witnessed any of the Espada drink alcohol no matter what the occasion, it was tea or nothing. Accepting the drink as it was offered, he waited for the two beside him to down theirs before joining them, setting the small cup aside as he waited for one of them to speak.

“He attacked Nnoitra...” Harribel whispered, peeking from between her fingers, expression aghast, “I mean... He attacked him for a good reason but...”

“You are shaken.” He noted, seeing her hands quiver faintly.

She gulped and frowned faintly, “He found a missing Espada in the sands, Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck... She was my predecessor as Tres Espada, but she disappeared. It turns out Nnoitra maimed her, causing her to revert to a child form. Shiro stumbled across her... Brought her back... Discovered what happened and attacked him...”

He was horrified to hear of the actions of the Quinto, but it wasn't beyond his imagination to believe the lanky Arrancar would behave in such a way, “That isn't what is troubling you though.”

“He froze.” Grimmjow grunted, “Nnoitra said Nelliel would hate him because of he's so violent, and he froze. Calmed right down, ordered Harribel to take him to the detention centre. And ordered Starrk to take the kid to Szayel in his place, like he couldn't bare to touch her anymore.”

Blinking, the noble sat forwards, “I... Apologise but I fail to see the issue. Is it not good that he restrained himself?”

“Good?” Blue eyes narrowed, “That level of crazy doesn't just vanish. Somethin' changed in him, for a fraction of a second.”

“One of his eyes turned brown.” The blonde woman said quietly, her eyes wide and far away, “It was momentary, when he looked at me, one of them was brown. But it was swallowed again almost instantly.”

Heart in his throat the nobleman let out a rare gasp, “Ichigo showed himself?”

“I'm not sure, maybe it was just a fluke, a momentary lapse? It was over so quickly... I don't think we should get our hopes up.” She shook her head, “He thinks we all hate him because he is so different to us... I think it is isolating him, making him even more temperamental.”

Byakuya shuffled in his seat, it was hard not to be hopeful, “Is he still wearing the kenseikan I gave him?” He asked, he recalled seeing it on his temple during their tryst.

The Espada shared an uncomfortable look before Grimmjow poured them all another drink, “Yeah, he is. But uh... Not by choice.”

“What do you mean?” He pressed, downing the drink and wincing at the scorching heat in his chest.

“It's fused to his head.” The blue haired man rubbed his forehead, “You know we all have remnants of our Hollow masks, right? Well... Somehow, it's become his. He literally can't take it off.”

Blinking, the noble let out a long breath, “I bet that was Ichigo's parting joke, just to provide a constant reminder. It sounds like something he would do.”

They fell silent, each mulling over their own thoughts. Byakuya lowered his gaze to his hands, experimentally stretching the fingers of his left limb, watching with some relief as they responded to commands. Orihime Ishida's powers were truly magnificent. Harribel had stolen him into the jails to see her only twice so far and yet his range of movement had improved vastly.

He was still wearing bandages, he would continue to do so to avoid rousing suspicion. And he was now pretending more often than not that he couldn't move the limb. He vowed he would repay the Human woman somehow when they finally escaped Hueco Mundo.

“We have a huge problem!” A panicked voice came from the doorway as it was flung open, revealing Starrk and Szayel side by side, both looking equally appalled.

“Oh _good_ , you too?” Byakuya couldn't contain his sarcasm as the pair rushed into the room, his eyes being drawn to the bundle of green in the Primera's arms.

“What is it?” Harribel was on her feet, hands clenched at her sides, “Did he finish Nnoitra off?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Szayel waved a hand dismissively, “It's _Nelliel_... I can't fix her. He's going to be furious!”

The Shinigami among them got to his feet as he watched a small round face pop up at the mention of her name, big hazel eyes blinking curiously at the new surroundings, “This is Nel?” He asked.

“Where is Shiro?” The girl demanding instantly, fixing them all with a scowl, “Nel wants Shiro!”

“He's busy.” The pink haired Arrancar was mercilessly cold towards her, “What am I going to do?! If I can't fix her he's going to have my head on a plate!”

“Why?” Byakuya asked in confusion.

“Because he knows I was indirectly responsible for Nnoitra being able to hurt her!” He squeaked, “What do I do?!”

“What about Orihime?” He suggested, “Perhaps she could help in this case.”

“Orihime? Oh, right the Human...” The scientist paced for a moment and nodded to himself, “I suppose it is possible, she can undo the damage, return her to her old form... Then he won't castrate me or whatever else goes on in that deranged brain of his.”

Sharing a look, they all opted not to comment on the irony of Szayel describing anyone as deranged when he too was the furthest thing from sane.

“Starrk, come! We are going to see the Human girl!” Came the sudden decision as the scientist swept out of the room like a storm, heading back towards the still open door, only to bump straight into the imposing figure of Barragan.

“We have a problem.” Came the rumbling baritone from the Segunda Espada.

Byakuya had to contain the sigh that built in his chest, but it died instantly as he saw the Segunda's single eye find him among the crowd of bodies, the seriousness etched there made his blood chill, “What has happened?” He asked.

Trudging into the room and closing the door behind himself, the large bodied Arrancar stopped just short of the noble, looking down at him with an expression almost close to sympathy, “The Boss has accepted him as he is. He won't be trying to coax the Shinigami back out.”

His heart sank at the news, and he took a step back, hitting the back rest of the sofa and slumping against it. He had rested so many of his hopes on the fact that Aizen also desired Ichigo to be the dominant soul of the partnership, without that leverage it would be even harder to restore his strawberry haired lover to his rightful place.

“How do you know this, Barragan?” Starrk asked, frowning deeply as he saw just how troubled Byakuya was.

There was a huff and a pregnant pause of hesitation, most unlike the arrogant Espada, “Vega and Calius saw the Cero heading to the King's Suite. They stayed nearby to eavesdrop. There was an argument, some thuds and shouting. They left just after hearing the Boss say the Cero had proven himself.”

Byakuya closed his eyes, teeth clenched as he allowed his head to fall forwards, hands gripping the leather seat behind him. He had feared this. Aizen knew how to play the game, and he knew how to play it better than anyone. He would rather accept Shiro than lose his power altogether. Manipulative bastard that he was. From the moment he had seen Shiro bow before the treacherous Shinigami he knew this was the risk. He had relied on Aizen's interest being solely in Ichigo, to prevent this outcome.

“So it's over then... We're done for.” Grimmjow threw himself back in his seat, “What can we do if Aizen's accepted him... We've got no chance...”

Byakuya was certain he wasn't alone in almost being crushed by the sudden eruptions of reiatsu coming from the King's Suite. The loud, voluptuous, sensual vibrations of power coiling around one another. The nobleman made a small choked sound from the back of his throat, his chest tightening painfully.

“They're... Together...”

Someone whispered it, he didn't know who. He turned his back on them, fists clenched as the dull throbbing in his legs and buttocks returned with a vengeance as he realised the depth of the entangling reiatsu. Shiro and Aizen. The King had his consort.

Did this mean Ichigo was gone for good? That there was truly no chance of getting him back? Had he lost him? Was there no going back?

He felt the tears on his face before he realised they were falling, silencing the whine that threatened to reveal him to the Espada behind him, he discreetly wiped at his face, cursing himself for such Human sentiments.

“I don't know why you're getting so upset, Byakuya.” Szayel's tone was scathing, a smug leer on his face as he peered over at him from behind his glasses, “Only hours ago Grimmjow was bragging about how he was going to bed you. It's no use acting like you didn't move on first.”

“Shut up you stupid fuck.” Grimmjow's voice was murderous.

The Kuchiki heir twisted on the spot, scowling at the pink haired scientist furiously, “Do you truly believe that after everything I have done to try and find a way to bring Ichigo back... I would betray him for a _fuck_ with Grimmjow? While I am completely confident that he would make a perfectly satisfactory lover, you couldn't be more wrong in your assessment of my morals.”

“But... Grimmjow said to Shiro...”

“It was bait!” The Sexta barked, “I baited him... Into thinkin' we were gonna fuck so he'd get jealous. I... I thought the jealousy would make Kurosaki wake up. It didn't work. But Byakuya and I... We didn't do anythin'. So fuckin' apologise you inconsiderate dick.”

Byakuya felt his heart warm only slightly as Grimmjow defended his honour, all the while concealing their pact to do 'whatever' it took to get the reaction they needed. He watched as Szayel seemed to falter and shrink under the ire of the blue haired Espada.

“I... I apologise. I... Didn't know the full story.” The Octavo mumbled.

“It's fine.” The nobleman breathed, looking at the floor, “We're all tense at the moment.”

If Ichigo was truly gone, then there was to be no rescue. He, his sister, his Fukutaichou and the Humans that had tried to help were trapped there for the rest of their days. Soul Society wouldn't wage a war they didn't believe they could win. They wouldn't risk innocent lives when duty dictated they continue to look after the souls of those who passed on from the World of the Living.

The best he could hope for was to beg for the release of those who had come to save him, to get down on his knees and dispel his pride. Allow it to be crushed in order to protect those dearest to him, to allow Rukia and Renji to return home, for them to continue their lives together, to date and fall in love as they had so desired. He could prostrate himself in front of Aizen for them, to plea for their release.

But what of the Espada? They would be trapped here with him as well, just as stuck as he was. Entrapped forever more with a crazed Cero Espada and his Shinigami master. They would be a destructive pair, capable of destroying cities on a whim. He wondered if they could even pierce the heavens, steal themselves into the Royal Palace and slaughter the Soul King. Those were his fears. Where they truly that powerful? He believed they were.

Which left him with only one option. If he couldn't restore Ichigo to his senses, he couldn't leave a crazed cannon like Shiro with Aizen, lending him power beyond the imagination. He owed it to Ichigo's memory to prevent Shiro destroying everything he cared about. His duty was to put an end to it. To preserve his memory of warm sunset coloured hair and sun-kissed skin.

Swallowing thickly, he couldn't remember a time when he had been more in turmoil, even with the death of his father he had found a serene calmness that had been of comfort. The death of Hisana, while heartbreaking at the time, had only solidified the controlled mask he was so well known for. But now his mask was cracking, fragmented and crumbled around him, he knew Ichigo's wishes. They had spoken briefly of them while incarcerated in the hospital together.

_Ichigo was perched on the edge of his bed, legs folded up into his chest, arms hugging them tightly as he seemed to stare off into nothingness, “Byakuya... Never let me turn back.” He said softly, eyes focusing on the nobleman, “I never want to feel so out of control and trapped as I did when I realised what that man was truly like.”_

“ _You have my word. If even a moment of temptation crosses your mind, you will find it swiftly beaten back by my own hand.” He replied, smiling faintly, “I won't let you stray.”_

“ _That's not what I mean.” Ichigo seemed to clear, so determined, suddenly very aware and very real, “If I lose control... If my Hollow takes over...” He bit his lip, “If you can't get me back you have to... You have to...”_

“ _What?” Byakuya frowned faintly, his heart doing somersaults with the tension he felt boiling beneath the surface._

“ _If Shiro takes over and you can't get me back I need you to be the one... I need you to kill me. I don't want to hurt people anymore, I don't want to hurt the people I care about! Please, promise me you'll do it.”_

It had been a very brief conversation, it had brought him pain to see the desperation in those warm chestnut eyes. The seriousness. He had agreed. But he'd never believed he would have to uphold his vow. Not like this.

He would continue with his original plan, he would try once more to bring Ichigo back and if it didn't work... He would slay the beast his lover had become. He would not allow his memory to be tarnished by Shiro's lunacy. But he would have to keep his vow a secret, he couldn't imagine the Espada agreeing to outright kill their Cero. He doubted they were even strong enough to do so. But he could do it, Shiro would never suspect him of it. A moment of hesitation... That is all he would need.

But... He would require Senbonzakura. Eyes narrowing decisively as he set his mind to work, he turned to face the Espada who remained in Grimmjow's quarters, they had stumbled into awkward conversations in the wake of Barragan's news, but they were not so distracted that his return went ignored.

“I will continue as planned,” he said sternly, his expression moulded tightly into an uncommunicative mask, “Aizen's involvement changes nothing. Shiro is a menace, and he is dangerous. As long as he remains in control not only all of Las Noches, but Soul Society too is in danger.”

“You're joking, right?” Starrk groaned, “We can't directly defy Aizen, it would be a death sentence for us all.”

Byakuya appraised the Primera for a long moment and lifted his head, sharp features cutting an imposing expression, “You won't be the ones defying him. All I ask is that you clear the way for me to make my move. Make it accidental, make it appear that you had no idea of my plans. I can take care of the rest.”

Grimmjow let out a low growl of frustration and got to his feet, stalking towards the nobleman and standing in front of him, his azure eyes were fixed in an expression of anger mixed with sympathy, “I ain't lettin' you do this alone.”

“Aizen will _kill_ you, Grimmjow.” Szayel hissed, “Think before you speak for once in your life.”

Byakuya saw the throb of annoyance run through the Sexta, who promptly fired a deathly glare at the Octavo, “Listen here, you pink haired, four-eyed fucker. You never gave a shit about Yylfordt, you never cared that he died defending this place. But I did. _I_ cared about him. Did Aizen even flinch when he was reported dead? Did he even seem fuckin' bothered for one minute? No. He didn't give a damn.”

“I fail to see the relevance of your argument. Yylfordt was weak, dimwitted, annoying and he was-”

“A thief, yeah I know, we've had this conversation before, asshole.” The Sexta spat, growling under his breath.

“Regardless, you are making a scene for no reason.” Szayel sniffed.

“Did Aizen seem bothered when Dordoni died? When Mosqueda was reported fatally wounded? When Rudbornn met his end? Has he ever shown anythin' other than amusement?! Eh?! Their deaths entertained him!” Grimmjow persisted and took a step towards the scientist, anger flaring full force, “Did he flinch when Ulquiorra reported Yammy's death? No. He blinked once, raised an eyebrow and dismissed him as weak. Did he seem bothered when Aaroniero died? No! He re-watched the footage, the only thing he was surprised about was Ichigo Kurosaki namin' his fuckin' Hollow!”

Szayel took several steps forwards as well, pressing his index finger against the Sexta's bare chest, a look of disdain on his face, “I'd stop overthinking right about now Grimmjow, it doesn't suit you to act like you have more than a single brain cell.”

The blue haired man was seething at the contact, teeth flashing behind an angry grimace, “Aizen let him de-mask the Cuatro without so much as a word. He barely even tried to stop him attacking Ulquiorra, one word from the Cero and he let him do as he wished.”

“And your point is?”

“God I thought you were meant to be smart, Szayel.”

“Hard to believe they used to sleep together, isn't it?” Harribel said under her breath as she moved closer to Byakuya's side.

“Wait what?” That caught Byakuya completely off guard, but Szayel's sudden show of jealousy made sense, “I thought Szayel said that it was rare for Hollows to feel love.”

She scoffed and her eyes crinkled as if she was smiling, “Does anything about this look like 'love' to you?”

He glanced back at the bickering pair, in his honest opinion it seemed their relationship closely resembled Ichigo and Renji's friendship and he knew there was a lot of love between them. Platonic, almost brotherly, but love none the less. Was this what they could have ended up like if Renji hadn't been obsessed with Rukia?

“What happened? You said they 'used' to sleep together.” The noble looked at her.

The Tres Espada sighed, “You heard the jibe about Yylfordt being a thief, yes? As far as I am aware, when Grimmjow chose his Fracción he selected Adjuchas whom he had befriended while hunting across the sands. Yylfordt was among them, and it appeared as though Grimmjow had a soft spot for him. When he became an Arrancar that soft spot grew and Grimmjow distanced himself from Szayel. Yylfordt never returned Grimmjow's... Affection, but Szayel blamed him even still.”

“Tch,” the noble snorted, “I'd wager love is more common among you all than you like the believe.”

“ _My point_ , Szayel,” Grimmjow's shout cut through them all as he clasped the Octavo's face between his hands, it was firm but not a painful grasp, “Is that we are all _expendable_. Everyone except the Cero. One day... He'll kill me anyway. I might as well go out in a blaze of glory, gettin' one over on the bastard.”

The pink haired scientist stared at him, his entire palm now resting on the other's chest as his mouth fell open at the statement, his brows furrowed behind his glasses and he released a short, sharp huff, “I hate it when you're right.”

“That's why it doesn't happen often.” The blue haired man's expression softened slightly before he glanced back at Byakuya, “I'm helpin' ya, no arguments.”

“I... Will also continue to play my part.” Szayel murmured, whiskey coloured eyes fixed on Grimmjow before they slid towards the nobleman, “Grimmjow... _Is_ right. Aizen has always treated us as expendable, one day any one of us might do the wrong thing and sign our own death warrants. Shiro's influence will only make it worse.”

The Shinigami sighed, “My thanks. But I don't wish for you to put yourselves in danger. Aizen is a perceptive man... One wrong movement, one wrong response...”

“It's a risk I'm willin' to take.” Grimmjow snapped, “You don't get to dictate what I do, or what I choose to do. Besides... I reckon I'd be safer sparrin' with Kurosaki than Shiro.”

There was a reluctant sight and Harribel ran her fingers through her hair, “I... Will also continue to assist.”

“As will I.” Starrk's baritone was a welcome warmth.

Barragan's vast arms were folded over his chest, “Aizen took my crown and my palace. Taking something precious from him seems like a fitting repayment.”

“Zommari's thoughts will not be any different.” Harribel was certain, “Nor will Nnoitra's. However I will make sure they are both updated on the situation.”

“My thanks.” He said quietly, he clasped his hands together and licked his lips, “Has there been any developments on where my Zanpakutō is being kept?”

“Not yet,” the Tres rested a hand on his arm, “But I will keep searching. I believe Gin might know, I have been attempting to... What is the term... Sweet talk him.”

A simple nod was given in response before Byakuya let out a slow breath, “Considering the recent development... It seems clear to me that we need to act sooner rather than later. How soon can you sneak me in to see Orihime again? She said one more treatment would render my arm completely restored.”

The blonde smiled, or at least the crinkle around her eyes suggested as much, “We can go now. Aizen-sama is... Clearly distracted at the moment.” Her voice was tense, not desiring to remind him of what was happening within the King's Suite.

“Lead the way.” He murmured, mind and emotions currently closed to anything other than the plan.

That was how he had to be. It was the only way he could survive. If he gave too much thought to Shiro and Aizen becoming the most dangerous couple to have ever cursed all three worlds he would crumble. Sentiment was a dangerous encumbrance now. One which he could not afford to be weighted down by. The lives of his sister, his Fukutaichou and Ichigo's Human friends depended upon it.


	58. Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close to two months have passed since the lord of Las Noches claimed his consort, and as far as Shiro's concerned, his life couldn't be any better.

Shiro snorted as he read the more recent reports for the goings on in Las Noches, reclining on the sofa near Aizen's balcony as he flicked another page over. His eyes were squinted, his upper lip raised in a sneer as he failed to understand how this week Zommari was responsible for the majority of the damage to the palace. He was certain he'd never seen the man so much as raise his voice let alone lose his temper.

“Fuck knows what happened to him then...” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Wait... What... Oh come on, ya seriously expect me to believe Szayel ' _accidentally_ ' left a noxious substance in Zommari's meditation room? Fuckin'... Stupid ass.”

“Oh, I don't believe it was an accident for even a moment.” Aizen chuckled from his seat at the desk, “However, it is far easier and far more entertaining to allow them to get away with... At least a little bit of what they do.”

“Uh-huh.” Shiro peered over at the brunet over the top of the papers, “That sounds like an excuse from a man with too much time on his hands.”

“Perhaps.” The Shinigami smirked, signing a few more documents, “Perhaps if you stayed more often I would have better things to do than place bets on which one of my Espada will kill the other each week.”

“Don't blame me for your bad habit!” The albino shook his head in disbelief, “Honestly. Besides, I'll be able to stick around more once Szayel's finished fixin' Nel.”

At the mention of the former Tres Espada, both men looked at the green haired girl currently sleeping with her head on Shiro's lap, drooling. It appeared the Octavo was thinking outside of the box, using Orihime Ishida's powers to try and reverse the damage done to Nel's mask in order to restore her to her proper form. But it seemed that Nnoitra's lingering reiatsu in the scar was impeding the progress.

Nel was able to transform into her adult body for about half an hour every day. It was an event that had mentally scarred Shiro for life the first time she'd done it. He'd been sound asleep in his own room, having dozed off with a very child-like Nel in his arms seeing as she refused to use the bed he'd arranged for her, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a fully grown woman straddling his body, green dress ripped and exposing way more flesh than he had been comfortable with. His screams had woken half the palace and Aizen, Starrk, Barragan and Harribel had bundled into his room to find out what the hell was going on.

He wasn't sure he was ever going to live that down. What made it worse was that Nel had no memories of anything that happened while she was in her adult body, and yet she seemed fully aware of everything that happened to her child form in those half hour episodes of adulthood.

Shiro sighed softly and combed his fingers through the girls' hair, it would be a lie to say he wasn't fond of her. They were almost joined at the hip, going everywhere together. She had no shame, no fear, no hesitation. He'd taken her out into the sands when he'd been hunting Hollows for sport. She was with him when he went to the recreation area, the canteen, the Espada meetings. It was like being a parent, she even wore a white uniform very similar to his own in design instead of the tatty dress she tended to outgrow at inopportune moments.

He had overcome his fears that Nel would hate him for his bloodlust, and had taken to ignoring Nnoitra's existence altogether as a result. In fact, besides visiting Szayel to treat Nel, and attending meetings with the other Espada he had taken to avoiding them all completely. Aizen had put his mind at rest about a lot of things. The main one being that he didn't need to change himself to make the Espada like him. He was the Cero no matter what they thought.

Golden eyes roamed distractedly away from Nel's sleeping form to focus on the brunet opposite him. It had been little over a month, maybe even closer to two since the day he'd found Nel. Since he and Aizen had fucked each other senseless. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that his life had never been better.

The only time he ever parted from Nel was when he left her in the safety of the Primera or the Tres, and that only ever happened when he was intending on staying in the King's Suite over night. It would be unfair to leave Nel alone, she was too small to care for herself, and he certainly wasn't ready to get cock-blocked by a kid.

Aizen had been vastly different, at least in his company. The foundations of their relationship were the same, fantastic sex, a little bit of violence, mutual marking and experimenting with every possible position they could think of. But, there were differences too. Aizen never asked him to leave his bed after sex, post-sex contact like cuddling was allowed, and there had been one or two instances of him waking up to find breakfast prepared and waiting at the end of the bed.

He was happy. Content. He had everything he'd longed for and more.

“Next week I will be leaving Las Noches with Tōsen and Gin, it's time I found some apt replacements for the Espada. A Noveno and Décimo. I've put it aside for far too long, once the war begins with Soul Society I will require my Espada to be at full strength.” Aizen's voice snapped Shiro from his thoughts.

“Mm. Sounds like a good idea. But what about Cuatro?”

“I was thinking of offering the position to Nelliel once she is completely back to her old self. She cannot return to being the Tres, Harribel is stronger. But I am confident Nelliel is still stronger than Nnoitra. She would make an excellent replacement for Ulquiorra.”

Shiro nodded, setting the reports aside as he went back to playing with Nel's hair, “I'm gonna miss moments like this when she's all grown up again. I know she'll still enjoy being around me but... It won't be the same.”

“Indeed, I think your time together has vastly improved you as a person. You've grown. It takes a great deal of responsibility and time to care for a child and you have done so flawlessly.” The brunet offered a rare smile.

“Mm.” A non-committal sound escaped the Cero Espada as he considered his lover's words, “Did ya know that Ichigo would have been able to have kids with Kuchiki? Because they're both nobles?”

“I did not.” A raised eyebrow, “How?”

“Not sure, he never got around to askin'.” He shrugged and glanced out of the balcony doors, “Dunno where that thought even came from.”

Aizen hummed thoughtfully, seemingly returning to his work, “I'm uncertain if you are aware, but I too come from a noble family. Certainly, not as high up and prestigious as the likes of the Kuchiki, Shihōin or Shiba Clans, but lesser nobility nevertheless.”

“I didn't know that...” The albino rested his head back before frowning curiously, “Why are ya tellin' me? I ain't nobility.”

“I do believe you are currently possessing the body of a noble, however. You should give that some thought.”

Shiro felt his face warm, clearing his throat shyly as he cottoned on to Aizen's meaning. It was a silly thought though. Aizen wasn't a domesticated man, he was a warrior, a leader, a fighter. And despite his own attachment to Nel, Shiro was more than aware that he also was not made for domestic life. He was, sadly, as likely to kill his own young as he was to successfully raise them.

Still. It was a nice thought. A kind offer.

“I might take her to see Szayel, I know he was planning on testing something new later today.” The Cero got to his feet, carefully picking Nel up and cradling her in his arms, “Maybe afterwards I can... Drop her into Starrk and come back here?”

Chocolate eyes rose from the paperwork and documents long enough to fix the white Hollow with a heated gaze, “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

Grinning widely, the albino laughed as he left the King's Suite. Nel continued to sleep soundly in his grasp as he freely wove a silent dance down the hallways, no longer bothered by who saw him and who might consider it strange. The music in his head was his own to enjoy. He even found himself humming along to it shamelessly as he pushed the laboratory doors open with his hip.

A quick glance around revealed the presence of the Primera, the Quinto, the Sexta and the Octavo Espada. Starrk was nose deep in what looked like a report of some kind, while Szayel was reattaching Nnoitra's hand to his wrist and arguing with Grimmjow about the recklessness of unleashing a Gran Rey Cero inside the palace walls.

“Stop yellin' at me!” The blue haired Espada snapped, “I _know_ it was dumb, he _told_ me to do it!”

“And if Nnoitra told you to jump of a cliff, would you do that too?” Angry whiskey coloured eyes were fixed on Grimmjow with such fury that the scientist ended up dropping a stitch, which only increased his ire.

“Of course not! But this wasn't a cliff!” Arms were folded now, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, “He challenged me to successfully cut him, because apparently he's been improvin' his Hierro. Whatever means necessary! I tried everythin' else!”

“You are pair of children I swear!” Szayel hissed scathingly, “What would you have done if you'd taken his damned head off?”

“What a stupid question. I would have brought him to you, of course.”

“I can't fix decapitations!”

Shiro snorted loud enough to catch their attention, immediately attempting to stifle the sound as three sets of angry eyes latched onto him. He couldn't do it. It was too funny and he ended up cackling loudly as he set Nel down on one of the other beds, holding his gut as it ached.

“I'm so glad my pain amuses you.” Nnoitra sneered.

“Oh it's not that.” He waved a hand, catching his breath, “It... It's just the idea... Haha... Of Grimmjow carryin' ya in here... Body under one arm, head under the other... Beggin' Szayel to make it look... Hehehe... Like an accident!”

Starrk snickered from his seat near the computer consoles as he looked at Szayel, “He has a point, my friend. One day someone is going to discover exactly what your limits are and I would not put it past being the Quinto and Sexta.”

“Tch,” the Octavo rolled his eyes as he snipped the thread, “You are probably correct. I should ask for a pay rise.”

“You're getting paid?” The Primera smirked.

“Shut up.” Came the aggravated response before Szayel snapped his gloves off and threw them in the nearby bin.

Nnoitra was flexing his fingers experimentally and seemed to nod to himself that everything was in working order as he sat up on the bed, “Cheers Szayel, I owe you one.”

“You owe me several.” Szayel said snarkily, “So, Shiro, what can I do for you? Please tell me it's not a battle related wound...”

“Please, the day I need patchin' up after a battle is the day I throw myself off the palace walls.” He rolled his eyes and patted Nel's bed, “Ya said ya had somethin' planned for her treatment today. I wanted to come down and see if ya were ready.”

“Indeed your regenerative speed is far beyond any other Hollow I have ever seen.” The pink haired man approached the bed and gently brushed some of Nel's hair back off her face, “I believe I have synthesised a serum to help extract the lingering residue of Nnoitra's reiatsu, allowing Orihime-chan's powers to work better.”

Raising one white eyebrow, the Cero shoved his hands in his pockets, “Is it safe? Is it gonna hurt her?”

“It is as safe as anything can be when dealing with these kinds of injuries,” a stern gaze fixed the albino in place, “It may be... Uncomfortable while the reiatsu is extracted but afterwards she should feel much better. And once Orihime-chan's powers begin to work it should numb any lingering discomfort.”

“Mm.” Frowning, Shiro looked down at the sleeping girl, biting his bottom lip worriedly. He hated the idea of putting her through something that would upset or hurt her, she had cried terribly the first time Szayel had tried to help her, she hadn't calmed down for hours afterwards. The experience had almost been enough to convince Shiro to leave her in her child form forever.

“If I might offer some insight, my friend,” Starrk walked over slowly, tucking his report under his arm, “Perhaps we could distract her with a game or a toy while the serum works on her... Try to take her mind off the pain. Orihime-chan is excellent with children, we could bring her up here now to help us keep Nel calm.”

“Sounds good to me.” The albino nodded, glancing towards Nnoitra and Grimmjow, “Can ya be trusted to bring her up here without rippin' a limb off each other?”

Neither answered him with more than a glare as they stalked out of the laboratory to collect the Human girl from the detention centre. Shiro watched them go and shook his head in disbelief at the idea of Grimmjow actually using a Gran Rey Cero just because Nnoitra asked him to.

“Sometimes I wonder how they're still alive.” He muttered.

“Sheer dumb luck.” Starrk said quietly.

“Dumb luck? Dumb _luck_?! It's because I keep putting them back together again, thank you very much!” Szayel half shrieked, grumbling unintelligibly as he stomped into his office.

Shiro giggled slightly and leaned against the bed, “What were ya readin' when I came in? Ya seemed engrossed.”

The Primera sighed and flourished the papers again, “Just a report from one of Aizen-sama's field agents. Nothing too serious.”

“Field agents?” The albino repeated, tilting his head curiously.

“Yeah, he's got someone in Soul Society keeping an eye on things. I receive the reports from him and pass them on to Aizen-sama when I've checked them thoroughly.” Gloved fingers combed through wavy hair, “It's pretty bland this week. Nothing happening beyond the usual.”

“So, this would be the person who enabled Ulquiorra and Nnoitra into Rukongai to kidnap Byakuya to begin with huh?”

“Yeah, that's the guy.”

“Sounds like a pretty good spy, keeping his cover after all this time.” Shiro scratched his head thoughtfully.

“He's strong, and would undoubtedly be an asset here in Las Noches, but his talents make him better suited to espionage.” Stark stowed the documents in his jacket.

“Huh, sounds like a handy guy to have around.” The Cero Espada looked around as he heard Nel yawn, smiling immediately as he watched her big hazel eyes flutter open, “Hey sweet cheeks. Ya sleep well?”

She beamed up at him and looked around, taking in her surroundings before he got onto her knees and crawled down the bed towards him, “Nel always sleeps good when Shiro is with her.”

“Well I am very glad to hear it.” He turned around and scooped her up, bouncing her gently on his hip, “Szayel thinks he's got somethin' to help ya mask feel a bit better, and Orihime is gonna come play some games with ya. Ya like the sound of that? Ya like Orihime right?”

“She's very pretty.” Nel grabbed onto his long hair and started curling it.

“I guess...” He muttered with a small shrug, “How'd ya feel about lettin' Szayel take another look at ya mask?”

She pouted a little and let out a huge breath, “I guess it's okay... Shiro will beat him up if it hurts, right?”

He laughed at the sudden wicked look in her eyes, “I will definitely beat him up for ya.”

“Then, Nel doesn't mind.”

“I bet you're going to miss this, right?” Starrk chuckled, “You're like an honorary dad.”

“Mm, Aizen-sama said the same thing.” Shiro sighed, “I'll miss it, I'll miss carryin' her around and playin' dumb games but... If it means she can live her own life again, without the pain in that mask it's worth it.”

“Ah well it seems help is at hand.” The Primera nodded towards the doors as they were pushed open.

The Cero glanced around, one eyebrow raised as he saw Nnoitra and Grimmjow nudge Orihime into the room. Their eyes met for a long moment, gold clashing against pale brown. She looked mildly terrified at the sight of him, not that he blamed her. Normally, he would go and sit in Szayel's office during Nel's treatment so he didn't intimidate the Human girl, as neither of them had forgotten the day he'd thrown Ulquiorra's carcass in a cell next to hers, and threatened to rip her arm off for touching him.

“Ah, Orihime-chan!” Szayel seemed happy to see her, which was strange in Shiro's opinion, “I'm glad you were... Free to join us. Did either of these baboons fill you in?”

“Baboons?!” The Quinto and Sexta exclaimed in unison.

Orihime glanced at them both and then stumbled forwards, clearing her throat uncomfortably, her eyes seemingly trying to land anywhere but on the tall albino figure, “They did not, Szayel-san. But I am assuming you have some good news about Nel-chan?”

“I do! Come here, I'll fill you in on everything. Would you like a drink? I have tea.” The pink haired man ushered her over excitedly, “Shiro may we borrow Nel from you, it will be easier to show Orihime-chan what I mean.”

“Sure.” He passed the child Espada to Szayel and watched as the three of them disappeared into the side office, “Anyone else find it weird that Szayel's so happy to see her?”

“Nah, he's always happy to analyse her powers.” Grimmjow shrugged.

“Not to mention Szayel's terrified you'll de-mask him if he can't turn Nel back properly.” Nnoitra muttered.

Shiro snorted, “Well, I wasn't planning on it but if the threat makes him work harder then... I'm not gonna correct him.”

“You've been spending too much time with Aizen.” The Quinto scoffed.

“Or not enough.” The albino winked.

They didn't have to wait long for Szayel to re-emerge with Orihime and Nel, the woman placed the child Espada back on the bed and perched beside her as the Octavo prepared a pale purple liquid over at one of the many overflowing counters.

Shiro watched from the bedside as Nel drank the serum without complaints, belching loudly afterwards. He chuckled and rubbed her back soothingly, watching as her pupils dilated and drool began dripping from her mouth. A single look at Szayel calmed his nerves, it seemed this was a normal reaction.

“I'm going to begin extracting Nnoitra's reiatsu now.” The scientist lifted his hands, resting them on Nel's mask carefully.

The Cero Espada let out a breath, glad when she didn't flinch at his touch. Gold eyes flickered to the side in surprise as he heard the fluttering of wings, staring at the small sprites flying around Orihime's head. Nel was giggling, reaching for them, completely distracted from what Szayel was doing.

Thick, oiling strands of dark yellow were coiling around Szayel's fingers, slithering free from the deep groove in the bone, Shiro was certain he could almost hear a tearing sound like the remnants of Nnoitra's reiatsu was being ripped free. The thought made his eyes narrow as he shot a look at the Quinto.

“I want ya gone, Nnoitra. If this works... I don't her to count ya among the first people she sees.” He was surprised by how even his voice was despite his temper.

The lanky Espada hesitated for a moment but nodded, “Probably for the best.”

Shiro was only able to relax when the door slammed shut behind the Quinto and his attention returned fully to the little girl in front of him. She was still smiling and giggling as the sprites of Shun Shun Rikka chattered animatedly to her and Orihime, but there was a pinch at the corners of her eyes suggesting she was experiencing at least a little bit of discomfort.

With a whimper from Nel, a gasp from Orihime and a victorious grunt from Szayel he pulled his hands away from her mask as the last dregs of reiatsu came free. The ugly yellow sludge evaporated as soon as the entirety of it was exposed to the air, and the Octavo Espada quickly wiped his hands on a cloth with a look of disgust on his face.

“Is that... It?” Shiro asked, combing his fingers through Nel's green bob of hair as she flopped back on the bed.

“I've managed to remove the reiatsu, yes. All that remains now if for Orihime-chan to work her magic.” Szayel nudged his glasses up his nose and let out a breath.

“You look tired.” Grimmjow said suddenly, eyes scanning the Octavo.

“Yes, well... It takes rather a lot of energy to extract another Espada's reiatsu from a wound, especially one stronger than I am.”

Even Shiro could see that the Octavo was looking a little pale and clammy around the edges, “Why don't ya take him into the office Grimmjow, get him a drink. Ya earned it, Szayel.”

Whiskey eyes widened momentarily at the approval before he merely spluttered, “Well, I would hardly be likely to allow _Nnoitra's_ reiatsu impede my progress. What do you take me for?”

“Shut up and take the praise, idiot.” The Sexta was already steering the other Espada into the office.

Shiro glanced at Starrk, they shared a brief eye roll at the Octavo's very normal behaviour and then the Cero became distracted by the pale orange barrier formed by Orihime's powers. He folded his arms, finding it hard to stay still when he couldn't touch Nel to comfort her. She seemed calm, still a little out of it from the serum, but he still wished he could hold her.

He really was going to miss taking care of her, it had become such a natural part of his day to feed her, clean her, clothe her, entertain her... What the hell was he going to do without all that to keep him occupied?! He was fairly confident that even Aizen couldn't fuck him _that_ much.

“How's it lookin' 'Hime?” He asked, barely realising he'd used the stupid nickname Ichigo had for her until she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I... It's looking good so far... Shiro-kun...” She offered an uncertain smile and seemed happy when he didn't growl at her in response, “I think... With Nnoitra-san's reiatsu gone I should be able to completely heal Nel-chan.”

“That's good.” His smile had faded even as he spoke, watching as Nel's mask began to change.

The change began at the very top of the skull shaped mask, the deep groove seemed to ripple and move, swirling like liquid mesh, tendrils of white reaching out from either side, groping over the black cavity to touch and interlock. And like a zip, when the connections were made the mask began to pull together, damage reverting to pristine flawless bone. The missing teeth on the left side regrew, clicking back into place along the faux jawline with a soft tapping noise.

Shiro's ears pricked at the sound of the laboratory door opening again, he didn't want to take his eyes away from Nel for even a moment but the subtle scent of blossom caught his attention and dragged his gaze towards the source.

Gold and steel clashed for what felt like an eternity as Byakuya stood proudly despite the Cero's glare. Shiro's expression mellowed slowly as he remembered the last time he'd seen the nobleman, and he looked away in shame. His jaw set uncomfortably as he watched Orihime continue her work, trying to heal the harsh scar on Nel's face.

“Did Harribel bring you up, Byakuya?” Starrk asked.

“Yes.” The nobleman's voice was hard, clearly just as uncomfortable as Shiro, “It appears I am due my monthly check in with Szayel. I am certain I can return later if now is inconvenient.”

The Primera cleared his throat, “It may be for the best if-”

“Stay.” Shiro growled out, refusing to lift his eyes away from Nel again, “Szayel is restin' but he'll be out soon I'm sure.”

“My thanks.” Byakuya's tone didn't change as he crossed the room, perching on one of the spare beds as he noticed what Orihime was doing.

“I-I don't think I can get rid of this scar, I'm not sure why...” The Human girl said suddenly, frowning softly, “I wonder if perhaps it has become part of her very Soul. It is the only reason I can think that I would be unable to heal it. I'm sorry Shiro-kun, I don't think I can turn her back into an adult...”

The albino offered a rare smile as the orange barrier faded and Orihime's sprites returned to her hair pins, he leaned down over Nel, brushing her hair back as he examined her completed mask, “Don't sound so sad 'Hime, ya did a great job. I'm...” He hesitated and forced the words out, “At least she won't be in pain anymore.”

Her smile was sad as she stood up, brushing her clothes down as she gave the Cero some space. Shiro took a breath and sat down on the bed, watching as Nel's eyes fluttered open to look at him as he caressed her cheek affectionately.

“Hey sweet cheeks.” He purred, smiling at her, “How ya feelin'?”

“Nel feels good.” She said quietly, her head tilting to one side, “Nel... Was wondering if she would have to stop playing games with Shiro... If she got better...”

“What?” Shiro's eyebrows shot up in surprise, “No, no of course not! We will play as many games as you can think of, no matter what.”

“Really?” Nel's smile widened slowly, “ And... And Nel can still play on the sands and help Shiro fight? And Nel can still play with Shiro's hair?”

He gulped hard, his heart aching at the excitement in her voice and for a moment he forgot there was anyone else around, “Nel... We can still do all those things! No matter what! Ya will _always_ be my friend.”

“Best friends?” She asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“The very best.” He whispered, sucking in a small breath, “So, if yer fightin' to stay the way ya are then... Ya can stop now. Ya don't need to be scared, ya don't need to worry... No matter what happens... We'll still have a ton of fun, and we can follow Aizen-sama together and cause him all kinds of trouble.”

Nel broke into a heartbreaking smile as her small hands cupped his face, “Silly Shiro. Nel doesn't follow Aizen-sama. I follow you.”

The albino's eyes widened at her words, breath catching in his throat as he watched pink mist rising from her body, swirling around her until she was completely shielded from view. Her hands slipped from his face and he stood up, hands balled tightly into fists. He heard her hiccup behind the screen of smoke and saw Szayel and Grimmjow watching from the doorway to the Octavo's office.

Shiro flinched as he watched a larger hand reach out towards him, touching his face sweetly as the smokescreen began to fade, despite his sadness and the bemusing feeling of grief the albino couldn't help but smile as he came face to face with Nel's true appearance.

Resting his hand over hers, the Cero squeezed softly, “Welcome back, Nelliel.”


	59. Why Would I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Espada confirm the last of Byakuya's plans and prepare to make a move. At the same time, Shiro and Aizen spend some time discussing recent events and Shiro's strong bond with Nel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short message, I apologise for the late update, I've recently started taking artist commissions and I lost track of time while doing them. I'm almost finished with my current batch, so there won't be too much of an overlapping effect :)

“I've never seen him act like that towards anyone.” Starrk said quietly as he closed the door to the Sexta's room.

“He's had a soft spot for her from the moment he brought her here.” Grimmjow muttered, throwing himself down in his armchair as he watched Byakuya perch on the couch, “You alright?”

The nobleman looked up as he was addressed, sitting back comfortably, “Of course, who do you think you're talking to?”

The Sexta just rolled his eyes and looked up at the Primera, “Interestin' though... Ain't it? The only person around here who can melt the Cero's heart is a kid...”

“Indeed, I would never have expected it myself.” The brunet sat on the arm of the couch beside Byakuya, sighing, “For a moment... When he was talking to her I was certain he might cry. It's as if he loves her.”

“He does.” Byakuya said simply, staring at his hands, “Ichigo's sisters wouldn't have been much bigger than Nel's child form when they died. It's undoubtedly part of the reason Shiro formed such a close bond with her.”

“Do you think he's gonna... You know...” The blue haired Arrancar winced, “Get worse again, now she's grown up?”

“I wouldn't like to hazard a guess.” The Kuchiki heir bit his lip for a moment, “One thing is certain, we cannot tell Nelliel that we plan to send Shiro away. I honestly believe she would stop us in a heartbeat.”

“Agreed.” Starrk nodded once, “I will make sure the other's are aware that they are to treat her with caution as far as our plans are concerned. The last thing we need is for everything to be ruined when we are so close.”

“You said Aizen leaves next week?” One eyebrow quirked as steel eyes narrowed, “It may be our best opportunity for a while, we have to take it without fail.”

“For better or worse, next week we make our move.” The Primera agreed.

Byakuya looked at his hands again, flexing his fingers. He had complete control back, full sensation and mobility. He was ready.

* * *

By the time Shiro had finished settling Nelliel into her own room and making sure she had provisions and clothes, the former Tres Espada had been fast asleep in her own bed. They'd talked, they'd laughed, he'd almost cried. But the loss of the child on his hip wasn't quite as heavy as he had expected it to be. He'd gained a friend. Maybe his only friend in Las Noches. That was worth something.

Nelliel was beautiful, just like Aizen had said. But her beauty wasn't just in her appearance, she was beautiful on the inside too. She seemed loyal, respectful and diligent. Logical and sophisticated, intelligent. But she was kind too. Unbelievably kind. There was a warmth to her that Shiro had never felt from another living being. An acceptance for who and what he was.

Smiling as he closed the door of the King's Suite, the albino rested his forehead against the cool stone, letting out a small breath as he tried to make sense of the bubbling feelings of joy running rampant in his head and chest. He knew without a moment of hesitation, had Aizen not already disclosed the intention to make Nelliel the new Cuatro Espada he would have claimed her as his Fracción. He wasn't interested in subordinates, he would probably never select any for himself. But Nelliel would have been the only one.

“You seem happy.” Aizen's voice came from somewhere within the Suite.

“I am.” Shiro admitted, turning slowly to locate the brunet Shinigami.

Aizen wasn't at his desk, which was unusual enough. But he also wasn't seated on the couch near the balcony either, which was usually his preferred choice when not working. Wandering further into the room, Shiro tucked his hands in his pockets. The bathroom was vacant, the balcony empty and the bedroom immaculate, all of which left one very bizarre notion.

The albino stuck head head around the door of the kitchen with raised eyebrows, staring at the sight of Aizen serving food into two bowls and placing them on a plain wooden tray. The smell in the room was aromatic and it made his gut grumble loudly.

“Did ya use yer Shikai on me when I wasn't lookin'?” The Cero asked teasingly, folding his arms as he leaned against the door frame.

“Not that I recall.” The Shinigami matched his tone, giving him a sly side glance, “Is it so surprising to learn that I am capable of cooking for myself?”

“Considerin' I don't think I've actually seen ya eat... Yes.” He snorted.

“You are hardly one to talk,” Aizen raised an eyebrow, “I don't think I've witnessed you eat anything besides a chunk of Ulquiorra's shoulder during your battle and the few breakfasts you've sampled here.”

Shiro sneered and rolled his eyes, “I eat. Sometimes.” He muttered, “Anyway... Special occasion?”

Brown eyes reflected his amusement, “Do I require a special occasion to cook you a meal, Shiro?”

“Me?” An innocent blink, “Yer cookin' for me?”

The current lord of Las Noches paused, released a single sigh and picked up the tray, “Do I appear to be in the habit of inviting random Hollows to dine with me in my own room?”

Glaring for all of a minute before his expression broke into a grin, the albino followed him out onto the balcony where a table had been prepared for them, “Point taken. Thanks.”

Aizen's reply came in the form of a half smile as they sat down opposite each other and began eating. Shiro felt himself relax into his seat, admiring the sight of Hueco Mundo and the full moon overhead.

“I gather from your mirth, and the familiar reiatsu down the hallway, that Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck has returned.”

“Yeah,” the albino nodded, “I made sure she was comfortable in the Cuatro's room, she was asleep when I left.”

“Your bond with her is very strong.” Aizen commented thoughtfully, “I'll not pretend I didn't check the cameras during her treatment.”

Shiro scanned the Shinigami's face in silence, taking a sip of tea before he considered answering, “Ya seem surprised. Is it because it's me or because ya ain't used to Hollows developin' bonds?”

“Your willingness to be straightforward with this sort of conversations is as refreshing as ever.” He chuckled, “In all honesty, it is a surprise for both reasons. The only bonds I have seen Hollows create are those of a hierarchy. Espada and their Fracción for example. As for you...”

“What about me?” He pressed, clicking his tongue against his teeth in annoyance.

Patting his lips with a napkin, the brunet sat forwards, “As for you, we are both aware that your desire to bond with those around you is, ah, limited at best.”

“Meanin'?”

“As long as I've known you, you have never shown interest in bonding with anyone other than myself, which in itself is not strange given that we are both aware of how you feel towards me, and with Ichigo's influence, Byakuya Kuchiki.” Aizen tilted his head very slightly, “Hence my surprise that you became so close with Nelliel, and that you managed it so easily.”

Shiro's face reddened and he suddenly found it very difficult to maintain eye contact, “It ain't so surprisin' when ya think about it... Not really...”

“Oh?” The brunet seemed genuinely interested, elbows on the table as he interlocked his fingers.

The Cero shuffled awkwardly in his seat, “Don't go all distant on me alright?” He muttered, folding his arms as he glared off to one side, “But it ain't all that surprisin' when ya consider that... With you and Kuchiki... Love was involved.”

“Interesting.” Aizen murmured, “So, you're saying you love Nelliel as well, hence why you have created a strong bond with her.”

“I think so.” His expression softened and his shoulders slumped, “Not in the same way but... When I think about all the stupid things we got up to and... Even if it was rememberin' Karin and Yuzu that stopped me killin' her at the start I took care of her because _I_ wanted to. Not because of memories. And... I know it hurt, the idea of her growin' up and maybe not wantin' me anymore. It felt like grief.”

“As ever, you take me by surprise Shiro.” Sitting back slowly, the Shinigami smiled faintly, “From everything I have learned while here in Hueco Mundo, and everything I have seen I believe that Hollows experiencing something like love is a rare event. Not unheard of, but certainly unusual.”

“Well I'm nothin' if not unique.” He grinned.

“Believe me when I say, I am aware.” There was a small pause before Aizen added, “And glad of it.”

Flushing again, the albino found himself playing with his hair shyly, “Well... Thanks.”

Aizen got to his feet, reaching out to take one of Shiro's hands he pulled the Cero Espada up as well and pulled him in close, sliding his free hand around his waist, “Tell me, why did you think I would 'get all distant' on you?”

Tongue ghosting over his lips as he tried to think of something clever to say, something to change the subject or distract the man from his question, Shiro faltered and tutted, “Well, ya know... I don't wanna make things uncomfortable... Like ya said, ya know how I feel...”

“I see.” Quirking one eyebrow Aizen offered a half smirk, “If I was bothered by how you felt, do you think I would acknowledge it at all?”

Shiro tried to come up with some form of reply, but his mind fizzled into nothingness as they came nose to nose, Aizen's breath rolling against his face and neck. It was ridiculous how his heart started thundering, how his steady breaths turned to heady gasps. The look in those dark eyes, Aizen knew exactly what he did to him.

Snaking his arms up around the man's shoulders, the albino ran his tongue along the Shinigami's lips teasingly, enjoying the faintest of quivers he felt in response. Jolting as he felt teeth bite down on his tongue, drawing the muscle into the warmth of the brunet's mouth Shiro's eyes slipped shut as a low moan escaped him from the back of his throat. He enjoyed the way they seemed to fit together, each curve and swell sliding into place.

They staggered into the King's Suite, balcony left abandoned as they followed the route to the bedroom that seemed so readily mapped in their minds. They tumbled onto the bed parting just enough to begin the rushed removal of clothing, but somewhere along the line the hurried fumbling of fingers and thumbs slowed, becoming more sensual, more deliberate.

The albino ended up on top, straddling his lover's waist as he rolled his hips against him, enjoying the low hum of pleasure that rose from the brunet at the action. Shiro took the time to slip free of his own jacket and shihakusho, throwing the offending garments to the floor as he watched heated eyes roaming the pale plains of his chest and stomach.

“If I gave ya free reign to do whatever ya wanted... What would ya do to me?” He asked, never once stopping the insanely slow gyration of his hips.

“There are few things I haven't done to you.” Aizen dragged his fingertips down the middle of the albino's chest, feeling each muscle and tendon ripple beneath his touch, “If _I_ gave you free reign... What would _you_ do?”

Shiro's fingers pushed the other man's shihakusho open, slowly circling the Hōgyoku with a curious gaze and grinned manically, “Stupid question... I'd torment ya.”

Allowing a rare laugh to escape him, the brunet reached up and gripped the wandering hands of his Cero Espada tightly by the wrist, rolling them until he was hovering over the albino, hands pinned above his head, “Then I shall forever be grateful that I am the one in charge. I doubt even I could survive your torture.”

“Only a fool would would think they could.” His grin never lessened, even as he felt a harsh bite on his collarbone and a subtle flurry of kisses and nips along his chest.

“Good thing that I am no fool.” Aizen breathed, completing the task of undressing them both with a restless urgency before once again pinning Shiro's hands above his head.

They kissed, hard and heated and deep. Teeth clashed and moans were shared until neither was sure who they'd originated from. Shiro found his wrists bound by their formerly discarded sashes, stretched above his head as the material lassoed him to the headboard, leaving him exposed and _almost_ defenceless.

Gentle and firm touches roamed his thighs, gripping with just enough pressure to border the line between pleasant and painful, rousing a subtle whine from the back of the albino's throat. Shiro's feet dug into the mattress, toes curling with a restlessness that continued to build as Aizen's fingers traces small intricate patterns across his skin, taunting and teasing their way towards his core. He was hard, horny and helpless as he pulled against his binds.

“Do you recall your reaction the first time I bound you?” Aizen asked, voice coming out as a husky purr.

Teeth worrying at his bottom lip, the pale Espada shivered, “Yeah, I told ya not to treat me like a dog.”

“Indeed you did, you were quite furious.” There was an unsettling smirk on the brunet's face, “I do believe it was the only one of our encounters you threatened to walk out of unsatisfied.”

Groaning as fingertips continued to travel treacherously close to his now aching length, Shiro arching his hips towards the other man in hopes of receiving some relief, “As I recall... Despite calmin' down after ya explained why... Ya were tyin' me down... I still stayed angry enough that yer bed broke...”

Dipping down to flick his tongue against the edge of the albino's navel, chocolate eyes narrowed deviously, “Ah yes, it took almost all of my deceptive powers to come up with a good excuse for _that_.” Teeth scraped against flushed skin, “This bed is far sturdier... I wonder how damaging your rage would be...”

Shiro raised one eyebrow very slowly, growling menacingly, “If ya don't touch me right fuckin' now... Ya will find out _exactly_ how damagin' my rage can be.”

“Is that a promise? Or are you making the dangerous mistake of threatening me?”

Excitement coursed through the Hollow's veins at the sudden low tone of the brunet's voice, his back arching in response as a breathless moan escaped him, body sparking with heat and jolts of need as the aching spread and clenched at him like a fist in the gut, “Well... That depends.”

“On what?” He dragged his nose along the smooth plains of Shiro's chest until they were face to face.

“On what's gonna get me fucked until I can't walk, _Sōsuke_.” He snapped his teeth with a wide grin etching itself across his face.

Aizen's expression didn't change, but his grip tightened on his thighs, becoming bruising. Their lips met harshly, Shiro released a yelp as teeth cut into his tongue and the tang of blood hit his senses, rousing a guttural groan from him. His legs were pushed up roughly towards his chest, a firm slap against his buttock had him releasing a startled cry that turned into a manic cackle as firm bites were tracked down his throat, leaving winding angry marks.

The mewling, wriggling Espada crowed as his erect length was grasped at long last, half purring at the rhythmic and aggressive strokes. His eyelashes fluttered as three fingers were thrusted demandingly between his lips and teeth, sliding against his tongue as they gathered saliva. He sucked on the digits as their eyes met.

Making sure to bite down teasingly as the fingers were pulled free, Shiro squirmed expectantly as he felt the wet touches against his thigh, dragging lower and lower so slowly he thought he'd lose his mind more than he already had.

His toes curled as those same fingers finally dipped into his body, his head falling back as the brunet Shinigami's hands rocked firmly. The albino yanked at his bonds in frustration, the need for more building rapidly, his face flushing as he briefly contemplated begging. He could feel his lover's fingers working him, preparing him but it just drove him further to distraction.

“Remind me,” Aizen's breath was hot against his ear, “Was it a promise or a threat?”

A single burning moan escaped him, gold eyes flicking to the side to find a dangerous expression plastered across the man's face, “Threat.” He breathed with a fearless smile.

Gasping in surprise as he found himself forced onto his front, possible only due to the length of the sashes around his wrists enabling it, his legs were tucked up under his body leaving him exposed and very defenceless. The satisfying but torturous touches were gone, leaving him aching worse than before. Longing for that completion.

A hard slap struck him across both buttocks this time, making his spine arch and his skin tingle with delight. Another slap followed the first, the sting making his eyes roll with arousal as his muscles tightened, expecting a third strike. When it came, it was harder than the first two and he had no doubts in his mind that it had left a satisfyingly red hand print.

He felt his hair being grabbed, being wound around a hand tightly, the sudden yank that pulled his head back. Shiro let out a long moan, the anticipation growing in the pit of his stomach as he felt the pressure of Aizen's chest against his back. His breathing quickened, pupils dilating.

Without warning, Shiro's body curved as he felt Aizen's length enter him, pushing deep, pushing far, filling him completely. The painfully tight grasp on his hair was used to drag his body back, pulling him against the brunet's lap hard, fast, fingers twitching in his silvery locks as dual moans were shared to the naked air.

Teeth dragged along the line of his spine, nipping and sucking in turn, an arm wrapped around his middle for greater leverage as the movements became frantic, primal, desperate. Over and over and over, the insane cycle of rolling, thrusting hip action rose louder and louder cries from the albino's lips.

“Don't you dare come.” Aizen's voice was sudden, husky and rough, growled through clenched teeth.

Moaning in disbelief at the order, Shiro released an almost desperate cry of “please” despite his pride demanding he remain silent.

There was a throaty chuckle as nails dug into his hip, “Not yet. When you're sparring tomorrow... With Grimmjow... Or Nnoitra... Or Nelliel... I want you aching and wincing and sore. Every time... You have to parry a blow or dodge an attack... I want you to remember that you asked for this... When you dared threaten me...”

His head would have fallen forward at his words, were it not for the lingering grip in his hair, keeping him firmly in place. His body jolting with each thrust, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall was like music playing in the background. Shiro's hair was released without warning, his face sinking into the bedding only to jolt upwards as he heard the ringing of steel, a sword being drawn.

His hands were free, sashes sliced by the ever sharp blade of Kyoka Suigetsu. A gasp broke free as he was lifted, pulled back into the Shinigami's lap, arms encircling him, keeping him in place. Kissing peppering his shoulder as a hand spread across his throat, tightening around his wind pipe, choking him.

“Move.” It was a simple order, but betrayed the hoarseness of Aizen's voice. He was close.

Hips rocking, Shiro continued the movements, faster and faster rising up and down on his lap. Moans escaping freely as his erection was grasped once more and pumped in time with his thrusts. There was a whisper of permission, so quite the albino almost missed it but his body reacted and his world inverted as his climax rolled across him and washed him away with it, a strangled howl breaking free from him. Body and muscles spasming and twitching and clenching tighter and harder than before, completion snatching his breath as he heard the satisfyingly breathless groan of the man beneath him orgasming too.

“Fuck...” Shiro had tears in his eyes, the intensity making his voice several shades of slurred, “I love ya.”

Aizen's forehead was resting on a pale shoulder, eyes closed as he caught his breath, “You fear me becoming distant from you... Because of your feelings...” His voice was quiet, not quite restored, “Why would I, when I share them?”


	60. Lotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizen spends some time reflecting on recent events, and comes to some uncomfortable realisations about his life.

The moon was eternally high in the Hueco Mundo sky, yet it was edging closer to a full moon with each twenty four hour period. A few scattering stars twinkled amidst the inky canopy, and almost entirely translucent clouds subtly obscured the pale white light for a spattering of seconds before it cascaded down through the open balcony windows again, falling upon exposed planes of cream skin and snowy hair.

Shiro was sound asleep, sprawled amidst the high quality sheets and plump pillows of the imperial sized bed in the King's Suite. There were faint bruises blossoming across his hips and throat, but they had already been diminished by his high speed regeneration. By morning they'd be little more that smudge marks against his skin.

Sat up, back resting against the headboard, Aizen was flicking through some paperwork. It was aimless, fitful, he couldn't concentrate. Before long the bundle of paper was set aside, and a long sigh escaped the brunet's lips. Dark chocolate eyes slowly moved from where his hands rested on his lap, to the sleeping Cero Espada beside him.

He winced, visibly. Not an action he was used to making, and yet it slipped free regardless. He found his mind wandering, trailing back several hours. Recounting their evening meal, their conversation, their passion afterwards. He wasn't entirely prepared for the sinking feeling in his gut when he considered the words spoken between them in the aftermath of orgasm.

It had been an indulgence, a... A reckless slip. To actually speak the words, to give life to Shiro's hopes and dreams. To confirm that what lingered between them was more than simple lust. He had not intended to do so, he had never intended to say it. He wasn't even sure it was true.

Did he share the feelings of the Cero Espada? He had never thought himself capable of something as... Dangerous as love. It was folly, a weakness, an exploitable vulnerable spot for his enemies to make good use of. He had severed all such feelings long ago, during his childhood. He had felt no love for his parents, his family, his peers. He had strived for perfection, for academic acceleration, for success.

He had used people, manipulated them, broken them to achieve his goals. He'd felt no shame, no regret. It was simple business. A transaction. Sex had always been a transaction. A stress relief, a means of control, a means of bringing to a knee those who might have otherwise been troublesome. Indeed, it had even been that way with Ichigo. He'd never met anyone capable of withstanding his... Aggression, who seemed to revel in it, seemed to gain some genuine form of enjoyment from it. On his side of things, Ichigo had been the perfect person to be by his side. He was powerful, beautiful, intelligent, willing to act, willing to kill, willing to be whatever he wanted.

Who knows when the infatuation had begun, the need to see him, touch him, have him. Byakuya... Had called it love, but surely it had never been that. Love wasn't cruel, was it? Love was kind and warm... A comfort to crawl home to. No. He was a monster, incapable of such things. It was infatuation at best. Obsession.

That was what he'd believed, what he'd truly and honestly thought. Until... More recently.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aizen slowly pushed the sheets back and got up, pulling on a loose robe as he wandered into the main room of the Suite. He sat at his desk, drumming his fingers across the wood.

Things had changed. He could still recall the deep set horror of seeing Ulquiorra trying to murder Ichigo, the blood splattering the sand, the sight of a broken body. The immense, thick reiatsu of Shiro breaking forward, surging, carrying, lifting. The Hollow had risen, halted death, saved the day. And yes, at first, he had been disappointed. The sight of the albino, that wild cardinal smile, glinting eyes that held promise and danger, wild and rabid and free. He had wanted the more restrained, controlled, ice cold malice of Ichigo, the violence and murder, the wilful deception... Yes, he had been disappointed.

And yet, somehow... This feral white beast had burrowed into his skull, his chest. Strong, beautiful, wild, unhinged and yet lucid. This creature was of his own creation, a monster born of his desire for an equal, his desire to... His desire to shake off the bonds of loneliness. Someone as strong as him, that was what he'd longed for.

A shaky breath broke free and Aizen gulped it back, teeth clenching as he flexed his fingers.

Disappointment had faded, replaced by a contentment to see how Shiro did. To see how he blended among the Espada. He had watched, through the cameras, the feeds, through Gin and Tōsen, he had learned. Shiro had tried to temper himself, tried to lessen his wild side, tried to fit in, to prove he could lead. He had tried so hard and yet the Espada were closed books. False smiles and fake gestures of kindness, a rebuttal against Shiro's madness. They would never openly accept him as one of their own.

Upon realising that he had been... Sad. Another emotion most foreign to him, and yet it washed over him like a tidal surge. He'd watched as Shiro would return to his room, sink into the sofa and sit. The glum expression on his face, the downturned lips, the dullness in his eyes.

He recognised that loneliness.

And yet, Shiro persisted, kept trying. Kept throwing himself into his duties. Never wavering. And through that resilient determination, Aizen saw him for what he was. Real, powerful, elegant... Perfect.

More than that, though, wasn't it?

There was a subtle creek near the double doors at the entrance to the King's Suite, brown eyes narrowed immediately to peer at the darkened shadows lingering there.

“What do you want Gin?” His voice was rough, not entirely crafted like he'd usually like.

“Ne, Aizen Taichou, how do ya always know?” Gin's scoff was teasing, drawn out as he stepped out of the shadows and slowly crossed the room, perching on the edge of the desk like it was his right.

Aizen stared at the silver haired fox. His co-conspirator, his former protégé, the thorn in his side. He'd watched Gin grow up, just like he'd watched Ichigo grow up. And yet while Ichigo had become someone he'd enjoyed the company of... Gin remained a serpent, untrustworthy and almost as manipulative as he was himself. He did not trust Gin. He never had. But he had his uses.

“You give yourself away too easily.” The brunet muttered as he stood up, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked towards the nearby window and peered out, “What do you want?”

“Heh, wanted to confirm our trip to find Espada replacements. Ya got everything ready?” The silver haired Shinigami hummed.

“Yes, everything is ready. We leave next week. Although...” Dark eyes flicked to the open bedroom doors, he could still see Shiro's pearlescent skin, “I may invite Shiro to join us.”

“Eh?” Head cocking to one side, Gin opened his eyes a fraction, “Don't ya need him runnin' things here while we're gone? Is it... Wise to take him too?”

“I am sure Barragan can manage things for a week, it won't inflate his ego too much.” A shrug, “Besides, it would be good for him to be part of the recruiting process. A learning curve.”

“Well... Far be it from me to question ya, Aizen Taichou... But ain't he just as likely to kill the recruits as actually help them?”

The former Division Five Taichou chuckled, an amused smile curving at the corners of his lips, “You are quite right. He is. But he deserves some entertainment once in a while. I can't blame him for his instincts.”

Gin's eyebrows quirked in surprise, “Ne... That's not an expression I expected to see from ya...”

Clearing his throat, Aizen glared at his lieutenant, “I fail to see how it is your business.”

“Ya don't wanna leave him do ya?” The other man smirked suddenly, “Has he got under ya skin? Ya feeling protective? Don't wanna leave him with the mean Espada?”

A low growl escaped the back of his throat, but he merely closed his eyes and turned his back on the fox, flexing his fingers again as he considered whether to even respond or not. He was silent for almost an entire five minutes before he looked around at Gin, expression like stone.

“Things... Are different now.” He said simply, turning so he could stride up to his second in command, allowing his reiatsu to flick out like a wicked tongue, a warning, “Shiro... Is different now. I am different now. That is all you need to be aware of.”

Pale blue eyes opened fully, seemingly assessing how much he could get away with, Gin tilted his head, scanning the imposing form in front of him, “I understand, Aizen Taichou.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Aizen drew his reiatsu away, sucking in a small breath before he returned to his desk, “But... You may be right, the Espada have been on edge as of late. Shiro should remain here, maintain order. I can at least trust him to keep things running properly. Pity...”

His eyes were drawn towards the bedroom again, fingers tapping resonantly against the chair arm, he longed to return to bed. To slip an arm around the sleeping albino, to pull him close. He could indulge in that now. There were, almost, no secrets between them anymore.

Shiro was the equal he had created, so perhaps it made sense that he could trust him. He could... It was still too hard to think the word, let alone say it. For now, he simply hoped the albino would be sated by knowing his feelings were returned. Not ignored. Not unfounded.

He found himself envying Byakuya, just a little. As stoic and silent and subtle as the Kuchiki heir was, he had not hesitated to open his heart to Ichigo, even after the pain of losing his wife, he had been almost eager to bare his Soul again, to someone far more dangerous and wildly than Hisana had ever been. What was it that gave the nobleman such strength? What gave him such courage?

Was it courage? It couldn't be, for Aizen was no coward. Was it strength? It couldn't be, for Aizen was stronger than all.

“What would ya be willing' to do for him, Aizen Taichou?” Gin asked, arms folded as he leaned on the desk, peering into the bedroom as well.

His first instinct was to berate his subordinate, to order him to leave so he no longer had to deal with his probing, but he held his tongue and instead... Instead he took a risk.

“At this moment in time? I believe I would consider doing almost anything for him.” He held his head high, despite the momentary churning in his gut, “I have waited a long time for someone like him, and while for a time I believed Ichigo was suitable... I was wrong.”

“A rare occurrence for ya.” The silver haired fox murmured.

“Yes. And yet not the first where he is concerned.” A small shrugging motion followed the statement, “Ichigo held many traits and abilities which would have served us well, had he reached here and become the Cero Espada as intended, however, I have since learned that we would also have missed out on a great deal. Indeed, Shiro holds many of the same traits and abilities, as well as many more besides.”

“But it's not just about their talents anymore, huh?”

“You're observant, as ever.” He muttered, closing his eyes, “No, it is not just about that. It is... How would you say it... Personal.”

“I see.” The response was incredibly simple, and yet somehow Gin's tone held no judgement within it's carefully structured depths, “It's strange, and yet I actually believe ya.”

“Yes, it is strange.” The brunet chuckled softly under his breath, “You may go Gin. We shall proceed as planned in the coming week. Shiro will remain here to run Las Noches in my absence. Relay that to Tōsen.”

“Yes, sir.” Gin offered a small, rare bow before he left the room and Aizen found himself wondering if his subordinate would view him differently.

He didn't care.

Sucking in another breath, he slowly rose from his seat and made the short journey across the room, lingering in the bedroom doorway, he leaned against the frame and watched Shiro. The albino was so peaceful when asleep, losing all of the turmoil and tremulous expectation, finding release from the heavy burden of insanity. He felt tingles of regret, on occasion, wondering if Shiro's madness came from the emotional effects of the first order he had received.

Surely, murdering his hosts family would have left a scar, a deep scar upon his mentality. Had it broken him? Was this shattered amalgamation of crazy and frivolity the result of having pieced himself back together?

Or, was his insanity a symptom of being created, and left unnamed? It was something they had discussed briefly in the past, Shiro being forced to name himself, a hint of resentment at not being given what he deserved at 'birth'. Aizen regretted it, he did. He should have taken the time to at least help the Hollow learn who he was. What would he have called him though? Without an understanding of his personality, his motivations, his very being... What would he have called him?

He felt his throat tighten momentarily, watching as the pure white creature in his bed rolled over onto his back, lingering only for a fleeting second before he curled up onto his side, arms pulling a pillow into his chest to cradle. Long hair pooled around the Cero's face, almost masking his deep sleep smile entirely.

“ _You're falling.”_

Aizen tensed, jaw clenching as Kyoka Suigetsu's subtle soprano trailed fingers through his skull. There was no accusation or disapproval. Just simple observation.

“ _It may be a little more than that.”_ He responded quietly, biting down on his tongue until he tasted iron.

“ _More than the strawberry?”_

He sighed, glancing towards the open balcony doors again, the idea; the memory of sun-kissed skin, vibrant sunset coloured hair and chestnut eyes was a pleasant one. It was warm, all encompassing, suffocating. He would always miss it, at least a little.

But. And it was a big but, the sight and sensations of creamy alabaster, long and luscious moonlight hair, glittering treasure trove eyes that held so much promise, so much depth, so much emotion and danger... It made his heart race in a way nothing else ever had. Nothing else ever would.

When had he fallen so far? So hard? When had it struck him so utterly and completely? How had this pure white beast broken through every wall, every barrier, every defence he had placed around himself?

“ _Yes. More than the strawberry.”_ He lowered his gaze to the floor, a small, fleeting smile tugging at his lips.

So many people looked at him and saw the former Division Five Taichou, former servant of the Soul King, now Lord of Las Noches, leader of the Arrancar army, traitor, liar, murderer, unbelievably powerful, threat to all three worlds. But not Shiro. Never Shiro. Shiro saw him. Shiro saw Sōsuke Aizen. That was a gift.

In his eyes at least, Shiro was a flower. Opening a little, day by day, just as the many petals of a lotus might open slowly over time as the sunlight coaxed it to awaken. Hidden layers, hidden depths, beautiful and fragrant and pure. Making no apologies to anyone for being himself.

A sudden gasp escaped Aizen before he could stop it, a recognition, a resolution swept contentment through him without permission, and he suddenly knew... He suddenly had his answer.

“Ren.” He whispered, “I would have called you Ren, my lotus.”

Moving slowly towards the bed, the brunet allowed himself to perch in the nook of the albino's crooked knees, reaching over and brushing some pale hair aside so he could see his expression better. As he did so, he found himself thinking Gin's question over again.

“What would I be willing to do for you?” He said aloud, the question troubled him, it made him ache somewhere in his chest, somewhere unfamiliar.

He knew the answer, and somehow it hurt. He'd always considered himself to be somewhat selfish, disinterested in the cares of those around him, willing to hold onto what belonged to him in a stranglehold so tight everything would eventually wither and die. But... Maybe he was right. Maybe he had changed, at least a little.

Because he knew for sure that he didn't want to see Shiro hurt. He didn't want to see him in pain, or suffering. He didn't want to see him choke for air and struggle to be free again. This stunning creature had been through that once before, struggling to find a place in the world while Ichigo held his chains. He'd seen what it had done to him to be so... Kept. And he didn't want to see it happen again.

So... Really, the answer was painfully simple.

“To save you... I would let you go.”


	61. Las Noches Unleashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While in temporary command of Las Noches, Shiro's days are blurring together with boredom and longing, until an explosion in Szayel's laboratory throws his entire world upside down.

The sweet sensation of Nelliel's fingers brushing through his hair wasn't quite enough to silence the restless frustration that left him fidgety and moody. Aizen had left Las Noches three days ago, taking Tōsen and Gin with him on the mission to find Adjuchas or Vasto Lordes worthy of becoming Espada. They would be gone for another three days before finally returning.

During the absence of the Shinigami masters, Shiro had been left in charge just as Aizen had said. He was in complete control of Las Noches and every single Hollow within her. It was a task weighty with responsibility and the depth of Aizen's belief in him. It brought a smile to his face every time he realised that.

“You miss him greatly.” Nelliel's soft tones made him peer up at her heart shaped face, “Aizen-sama will be back soon, Shiro.”

“I know.” He said quietly, he couldn't be rude to her no matter how annoyed he was, “And I know he'll get a kick out of watchin' the footage, seein' how much I'm pinin' for him. Yeah... His ego will know no bounds.”

She giggled sweetly, “Probably, but I am sure he is missing your company too. I've seen how he looks at you. He doesn't look at anyone else in quite the same way.”

Nelliel was perceptive. Aizen was the master of his own emotions and reactions, hiding everything at the flick of a switch, and yet Nelliel could see beyond it. Not as deeply as he could, but still deeply enough to know that there was something important between them. Hell, it was still weird enough for him to know there was something truly important between them.

_Aizen's forehead was resting on a pale shoulder, eyes closed as he caught his breath, “You fear me becoming distant from you... Because of your feelings...” His voice was quiet, not quite restored, “Why would I, when I share them?”_

Shiro sat up at the memory of that day. It was undoubtedly the best day of his life. Nelliel had been healed, restored to her powerful adult form, he'd had mind blowing sex with Aizen and then the man had taken his breath away with the most indirect confession he'd ever heard. They'd said nothing more on it, not mentioning it was something they were both already skilled at. But there was a subtle change, a tenderness between them shown in touches and glances that left Shiro's insides the consistency of jelly.

He hadn't returned to his own quarters since that day, lounging around in the King's Suite had become his personal bad habit. It felt good, he felt at home. He felt welcome. But he knew he was free to come and go as he pleased. He wasn't being tied down, restricted or controlled. He was independent.

Staring at the immaculate desk in the middle of the room, the albino found himself considering everything he and Aizen had spoken about the morning the Shinigami had left. Aizen had finally revealed the end game. His ultimate goal. What it had all been about. It was the finer points that stuck with Shiro, the details.

“ _Once I have returned with the new candidates for the Espada we can finally begin preparations for the war.”_ _Aizen's fingers were roaming the bare expanse of Shiro's back thoughtfully, “My command will not be limited to Hueco Mundo... When my plans are finalised Soul Society, and the World of the Living will also kneel.”_

“ _How are ya gonna manage that?” Shiro peered up at him lazily, stretching out languidly at his side, “I know the Espada are strong, but defeatin' the Goeti will be a hard task...”_

“ _It will not be a difficult task by the time we get around to it. My elite ten warriors and their Fracción, lead by you while I still have the likes of Byakuya and Rukia Kuchiki, and Abarai locked away in the prison cells... It will be a decisive battle, one single fight. Not lengthy. Take away their commanders and the flock will fall.” The brunet's smirk twitched a little, “Have you ever heard of the Ōken?”_

“ _Ōken?” He repeated, “No... I don't think so.”_

“ _The Ōken is a key, far more special than any normal key it permits entry into the Soul King's domain. When the Goeti Thirteen has fallen, we will enter the Royal Palace and take our rightful places there. I will take the throne, and you will sit beside me.”_

“ _So ya already have this... Ōken? But the Shinigami don't know what ya next move is gonna be?”Pale eyebrows furrowed._

“ _Mm. Regretfully an Ōken is not something I can simply obtain. I must create one. And sacrifices must be made in order to do so...” The brunet trailed off as he kissed the top of Shiro's head, “An Ōken can be crafted by sacrificing one hundred thousand souls within the radius of half a spirit-mile. We need a concentrated spirit zone. And as luck would have it, my field agent in Seireitei has been able to locate one for me.”_

“ _One hundred thousand lives...” The Cero Espada breathed, golden eyes wide as he tried to picture how many corpses that would leave, “Where is it? This... Concentrated zone?”_

_Aizen hesitated, something most unusual for the man and it caused Shiro to peer up at him curiously, propping himself up on an elbow. The Shinigami met his gaze, apparently searching his eyes for something, an answer to an unasked question._

“ _Karakura town.” He said finally._

_Shiro snorted, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “Yer jokin'? Karakura? Oh... Oh that is disgustingly perfect. He'd be turnin' in his grave if he knew... Precious Karakura town turned to ash...”_

It was definitely the finer details that stuck with him, but the end game was so delightfully enticing he found himself excited for it. Knowing that Aizen planned to take him with him, all the way to the very top. He wanted to make sure he succeeded. He'd do anything to ensure it. Anything.

“Your crazy is slipping out again.” Nelliel commented, smiling as she saw the unhinged grin on his face.

“Sorry.” His eyes were twinkling as he looked at her, “Doesn't scare ya does it?”

“Silly Shiro.” She shook her head and kissed his cheek, “You could never scare me.”

The albino grinned at her, his expression losing some of its mania as warmth rose in its place, “What shall we do today? I'm bored of sittin' here waitin' for Aizen-sama to come home. Ya can choose anythin' and we'll do it.”

“That's more like it!” She clapped her hands together excitedly and got to her feet, “How about we go and spar for a little while? You still need help using your Bankai right?”

He nodded and followed her from the room, making sure it was locked securely behind him. Nelliel alone knew that he was having trouble with Bankai, he hadn't dared reveal it to the Espada or to Aizen in case they took it as a sign of weakness. In truth, ever since Zangetsu had closed all access to the Inner World he had been unable to use any of the Zanpakutō's abilities, except for Getsuga Tenshou. The annoying, grim Zanpakutō spirit had effectively locked him out of Bankai, but he was determined to break back into it by force. Nelliel had been helping him, she deemed fighting to help him regain something he had lost a worthy cause and a righteous reason for battle.

He walked beside her, silently proud of how she held her head high and seemed almost unshakeable. She'd been over the moon to accept the role of Cuatro, gleeful to know her power still allowed her to walk among the Espada and even happier to know she was strong enough to still spend time with him. But she had refused to take on new Fracción. The realisation that her former Fracción and friends had died while she had been locked in child form had been painful for her. She had vowed never to replace them.

Likewise, Shiro still had no interest in having any Fracción himself, the Arrancar, the Números were simply too weak for him to even consider. They'd never survive him unleashing the full fury of his reiatsu, so what good were they? He remained firmly decided that the only Hollow he would ever have considered was Nelliel.

Hands shoved deeply in his pockets, he mostly ignored the polite squeaks and bows they received from lesser Hollows, apparently they felt the need to express their gratitude that he no longer crushed them on sight. Ignorant. He shot a Cero behind him without looking back, smirking wildly as he heard a scream of pain as at least one of the pesky critters was obliterated.

“Shiro!” Nelliel scolded him with a frown, “That was Lumina and Verona! Szayel's going to throw a fit... You really are the worst sometimes.”

“My hand slipped.” He smirked, winking at her, “Come on, I've got a reputation to live up to.”

They exited the porcelain hallways, onto the bridge between the central palace and the still ruined site of Aaroniero's dark tower, Shiro briefly cast an eye upwards to scan the false sky, the false sunlight flittering down upon them both. They'd been using the wrecked area to train in peace, the other Espada stayed away, uninterested in their play fights.

They strolled leisurely across the bridge, and Shiro sucked in a deep breath, fingers already reaching towards Zangetsu's bandaged hilt, ready to draw it, itching for the fight. Even if he'd never press hard enough to hurt Nelliel, she gave a good fight. The pads of his index and middle fingers had only just scraped the material when the bridge shook beneath them both, the gargantuan roar of an explosion coming from across Las Noches shaking the surrounding area.

The two Espada spun on the spot, grabbing the railing as they watched a violent beam of light shoot up into the air, striking the dome, and splintering faint cracks across the false sky, showering the area with fragmented glass as it shattered and fell.

Their eyes met for a long moment, both wide and disbelieving.

“What the _fuck_ was that?!” The albino exclaimed, letting out a shaky gasp as the area finally stopped rattling.

“I don't know! It... It came from Szayel's laboratory!” Nelliel exclaimed.

Scouting the landscape, Shiro could see thick plumes of smoke rising in the distance, “Shit, yer right. Come on! We need to assess the damage, make sure he wasn't in the middle of that explosion!”

“I'm right behind you!” She nodded.

They darted back inside the corridors of the palace, Sonido crackling as they drove themselves towards the epicentre of the explosion as quickly as they could. Aizen would be less than impressed if he received a report stating he needed to add a new Octavo to the list of recruits.

Shiro moved just slightly ahead of her as they neared the laboratory entrance, smoke was escaping beneath the doors in curling tendrils. Without a moment of hesitation, the Cero Espada threw the doors open and hurried inside, looking around for the source of the explosion.

There was a large gaping hole in the ceiling, allowing for thin sun beams to flitter into the large room, fragments of rubble were discarded around, strewn by whatever had caused the discharge. Hurrying forwards, Shiro looked left and right, trying to see a flash of pink. Surely Szayel wouldn't be beneath the rubble. Surely he wouldn't have been harmed.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Nelliel's body collided with his own, shoving him forcefully to the ground, a cry of pain escaping her as she was struck by the crackling, frenzied fluctuations of a Gran Rey Cero. She was wincing in pain, her uniform scorched and burnt away around her ribs, revealing an ugly wound that almost seemed bone deep.

Shiro was on his feet, muscles coiling ready to pounce as he moved himself in front of her, protecting her. Eyes scanning furiously as they hunted for the attacker. His ire only increased when he met narrow blue eyes and a shock of hair to match.

“ _Grimmjow_.” The name left his lips in a snarl, “What the fuck are ya doin'?”

The Sexta's teeth were clenched, fingers dripping with blood from where he'd sliced them for the attack, “I'm doin' what I have to.”

Slowly reaching up for his Zanpakutō, Shiro began to prowl, his muscles uncoiling fluidly with each movement as he dared to roam closer to the blue haired Arrancar, “Surrender now... And I won't kill ya. Continue doin' whatever the fuck it is yer doin' and I'll end ya.”

“I won't surrender to the likes of you.” Grimmjow's expression was set, he was serious, but there was a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek.

“Fine.” He sneered, shooting forwards without warning as he ripped Zangetsu from it's sheath and swung the blade towards the Espada's neck.

Grimmjow dodged, barely. Sonido carried him just out of reach. Shiro lunged again, twisting and turning, following the Sexta's evasive movements. It was frustrating, infuriating. He was being mocked. Taunted. Challenged. His blood was boiling. How _dare_ Grimmjow hurt Nel.

Foot snagging on a chunk of rubble, the blue haired Arrancar stumbled, Shiro's eyes narrowing in satisfaction as he saw a flash of fear cross the Sexta's face. Zangetsu swung forwards mercilessly. Golden eyes widened suddenly as a firm hand gripped his wrist, stopping him just inches away from exposed flesh.

“My friend,” Starrk met his angry gaze, “I fear I cannot let you do this.”

“Step aside.” The Cero growled.

“I cannot.”

“Step. Aside.” He said again, reiatsu rising to enforce which one of them was stronger.

“No.” The Primera's expression seemed regretful, but his fingers remained tight around his wrist, a flare of reiatsu just a little weaker than his own rising in challenge.

“Look at what he did to Nelliel!” He barked, “That was meant for me. It is my responsibility to punish him for his actions. Let me go!”

“Nelliel... Was never meant to be here.” Blue-grey eyes tightened at the corners, “Lumina and Verona were meant to send her on an errand.”

Shiro's mouth dropped open as he recalled blasting the pair with a Cero, eyes darting to where Nelliel lay unconscious, her wound still grisly and deep. Then, things began to click into place and his shock was gone, replaced with cold hard rage.

“This wasn't an accident.” He breathed, “Yer in on it too. What is this, Starrk? While Aizen's away... Mutiny? Take back Las Noches? Kill everyone loyal to him?”

“I'm afraid... This is no mutiny, my friend.” Starrk's fingers tightened around his wrist, pinching his nerves and tendons, squeezing them so hard that his fingers grew numb.

Zangetsu hit the floor, Shiro's eyes narrowing, “So it's me yer after.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and drew his free arm back ready to strike the Primera, “I don't need a sword to kill ya.”

“We know.” A hand grabbed his other arm, and then another, bony fingers tightly holding him in place.

Shiro's head snapped around, breath catching at the sight of Nnoitra. The Quinto was in his Resurrecciōn form. Horns extended from his skull in the shape of a crescent moon. Six arms, two currently restricting his movement while the other four spun his large scythes. Without warning, the spinning stopped and the scythes clunked forwards, interlocking like a prison around the albino Espada's throat, making it impossible for him to move without losing his head.

“Careful now, Cero,” Nnoitra's single eye was narrowed, “I don't believe even you can recover if you're decapitated, no matter how good your high speed regeneration is.”

“And sadly, I cannot fix decapitations.” Szayel's voice came from behind him, withholding all of its usual smugness.

“Clever.” Shiro spat, “So tell me, what are ya after? Ya want me in cuffs? Restrained in the prisons like a dog? Ya want to see me weak?”

“I fear it is not you we want at all.” Starrk said quietly, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Ah...” The Cero let out a breath, closing his eyes as he felt a great swell of anger bubbling in the pit of his belly, “How long?”

“What?”

“How long... Have ya been plottin' with Kuchiki?” He breathed.

“Shit, how did you...”

“Enough Szayel.” The Sexta's voice was sharp.

“Hm.” Shiro smiled, it was bittersweet, “Let me guess... After ya saw what I did to Ulquiorra ya felt a tremble of fear, knowin' there was an Espada stronger that the Primera. Unhinged, dangerous, talented... An Espada held in high regard by Aizen. And Byakuya Kuchiki was there to tell ya all about me. Am I right?”

“You are.” Starrk said softly, “He only confirmed our own concerns, that you are unstable... Unsafe... And loyal to no one except Aizen. You are as likely to kill us as you are to lead us.”

The albino let out a long and steady breath, glancing at each Espada in turn. Grimmjow, his head was held high; his eyes were narrowed and his hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of his uniform, he knew the Sexta loathed his presence because of what had happened with Byakuya. Szayel, the scientist looked the least comfortable out of those present, the weakest among them he was likely afraid of the multiple outcomes his brilliant brain had analysed. Nnoitra, the arrogant bastard seemed glad to have him in such a trap, knowing that a single move could take his head off, a chance for him to regain some of his dignity. Starrk... Out of all the original Espada he had truly believed he had at least some kind of bond with the Primera, no matter how shaky or feeble he wouldn't have expected his betrayal.

“Do ya truly believe Aizen will thank ya for this? Do ya expect to survive his anger when he finds out about it?” Shiro raised an eyebrow, looking straight at Starrk, “Do ya think he'll spare Lilynette?”

The Primera's usually calm demeanour slipped, just slightly, “We have all prepared for every eventuality.”

“I see.” The faint scent of blossom reached his senses and the albino released a low growl, “Come out Byakuya. I'm done talkin' to yer puppets.”

There was a pregnant pause, the tension in the laboratory overflowing so thickly it could be cut with a knife and then with a seemingly deliberate hesitation the door of Szayel's office opened and the raven haired Shinigami stepped out. The Kuchiki heir was standing tall and proud, fearless. His Zanpakutō was at his side, the bandages which had so aptly protected his useless left arm were missing, revealing a clenched fist.

The Cero felt his anger spiralling at the sight, the depth of the Espada's betrayal now clear to him as he caught sight of Zommari and Barragan in the office behind the Shinigami. Snarling moodily as he watched the Kuchiki heir walk towards him he snapped his teeth, fingers twitching with the urge to snap his neck.

“What's the plan, Kuchiki? Kill me and escape Hueco Mundo? Flee back to Soul Society and prepare them for the war?” His top lip curled back with his sneer.

“I'm not going to kill you, Shiro.” Byakuya's voice was even despite the rage boiling in the albino's expression, “I'm going to send you back where you belong.”

Shiro's eyes widened sharply and he released a truly animalistic rumble from the back of his throat, he tried to lunge at the Shinigami. Stopping only when the sting of metal against his throat registered and he glowered at the scythes still locked around his neck. He was shaking, muscles rigid as they coiled beneath his skin, reiatsu flaring out like angry snakes snapping and lashing back and forth.

“I will kill ya.” The albino breathed, “I'll make it slow... Painful... But I'll make sure ya live just long enough to watch Rukia's head roll!”

The Kuchiki heir's breath hitched only slightly at the threat against his sister, but his expression seemed to set like stone, “And that, more than anything else... Is why you cannot stay in control.”

A tremble of fear ran through Shiro as he watched the nobleman lift his hands, and for the first time he saw that he was no longer restrained by reiatsu suppressing shackles of bands. The nobleman was completely free and unhindered. Able to do anything. Everything. Shunpo, Kidō, Shikai, Bankai. It was his duty, as the temporary commander of Las Noches, as the Cero Espada, as Aizen's consort to put an end to the threat. And that was exactly what Byakuya Kuchiki was. A threat.

Shiro's fingers twitched, adrenaline pumping through his veins like thousands of tiny needles prickling against his insides. His reiatsu detonated around him like a buffer, manifesting like angry scarlet flames. He could see the sudden change on their faces, the fear. The panic. The Cero Espada twisted both of his wrists with deliberate force, the crunch of bones breaking spurring his anger onwards as he slipped free of Starrk and Nnoitra's grasp.

Nnoitra's scythes lunged inwards to close the miniscule gap between blade and flesh. Shiro dropped, taking a cut to the scalp and jaw as his knees hit the floor. He was free. He swivelled, leg darting out as he swept Nnoitra and Starrk off their feet in one smooth motion. The albino rolled backwards as Grimmjow's sword stabbed mercilessly into the floor where his head had been.

Another twitch of his fingers brought Zangetsu back into his grasp, grip tight as he rose to his feet, reiatsu still boiling and bubbling around him like a stormy current, he batted Grimmjow aside with his bare hand, eyes fixed solely on the Shinigami.

They clashed. He could hear the gasp from the watched Espada as they recovered from the blows delivered to them. They wouldn't dare interfere now. The small crowd shied away from the Cero and the Taichou. All skill and lean muscle, leaping back and forth with catlike agility between the cumbersome splashes of rubble and fallen concrete. Shiro cracked a smile, it was bloodthirsty, hungry, cut throat. Making sure they made eye contact, he could see the seriousness in Byakuya's eyes, the determination, the willpower. Resilience. Months of captivity had not dulled his ability.

Advancing, dancing, spinning. Sparks flew between them as the huge blade of Zangetsu clashed painfully against the more elegant and compact Senbonzakura. Shiro threw his weight behind each strike and lunge, trying to throw Byakuya off balance. If he could use Bankai... If Zangetsu would just do what he asked... He'd have won already.

He was taken aback by a sudden back swing, the tip of the nobleman's blade curved an ugly wound across his face. The albino let out a choked groan of pain, feeling the hot splash of blood. He dodged a second surprise jab, cackling loudly as he felt the stinging wound heal on command. His regenerative powers truly were impressive. He threw his Zanpakutō forwards suddenly, watching as Byakuya's blade went back, back, back. It wasn't enough to knock it free from his grasp, his fingers tightening tenfold.

Byakuya struck out. The arcing shot sliced the fabric of Shiro's shihakusho at the midsection. It missed the flesh by a hairs' breadth. But the nobleman had overextended his reach this time and staggered. Shiro swung. Byakuya ducked and the albino saw a few hairs flutter aside, he had missed by a split second, nothing more. The sight only increased his ire.

Swing, hack, slash, lunge. He missed the first three badly, anger driving him to be clumsy with his movements. But the lunge made contact, found flesh. He watched as blood ran down the creamy white material covering the Shinigami's left leg. Satisfied he watched as Byakuya dropped to one knee.

“If ya really thought I'd lose yer a bigger fool than I ever realised, Byakuya Kuchiki!” Shiro smirked, raising Zangetsu above his head.

“Scatter, Senbonzakura.”

A vibrant explosion of rippling, trickling petals spurted upwards, curving and coalescing around Zangetsu, stopping it from making its' deathly swing. At the same moment, the laboratory doors blasted inwards without warning, revealing the breathlessly panting forms of Rukia and Renji, stood side by side. Shiro's eyes narrowed at the sight of them and he released a low growl.

“Bakudō 1: Sai!” Rukia's hand flew up instinctively as he turned towards them.

Gasping, the albino let out an infuriated roar as his body constricted against his will, sword slipping from his grasp as his arms twisted up behind his back, entrapped by some invisible force, “ _FUCK_!” He howled, instantly fighting against the restriction, pushing his reiatsu out to sever the bonds.

“Disintegrate, you black dog of Rondanini! Look upon yourself with horror and tear out your own throat. Bakudō 9: Hōrin!” Byakuya's hands were raised, orange hued tendrils ensnaring and immobilising the Cero Espada further as the Kidō wound around him.

Spitting and hissing like an angry snake, the Cero raised his reiatsu again, teeth clenched as he fought against the Kidō. He'd be out of it in seconds. This was pointless. He was going to kill them all for this. He was going to snap their necks one by one and-

“Bakudō 4: Hainawa!” Rukia shouted out.

“Bakudō 63: Sajō Sabaku!” Byakuya joined her, rising to his feet again.

Shiro's eyes widened, watching as Byakuya lifted his arm, reaching out towards him, the dense yellow chains leapt forth from his fingertips, shooting out and coiling themselves around the Espada's body, painfully. The albino staggered, roaring furiously as he fell to his knees. Still fighting with every inch of strength.

“Bakudō 99: Kin!” The sight of the Kuchiki heir's fingers entwining left him reeling, his body jerking violently from left to right as he fought against the spiritual black fabric and iron shafts that were entrapping him, dragging him downwards towards the tiled floor of the laboratory.

“BASTARDS!” He screeched, writhing as he raised his reiatsu again, trying to force the smallest of gaps between himself and his restraints, trying to slip even a single hand free. He would blast them all to Hell for this, “TREACHOUS SNAKES!”

The laboratory seemed to come alive, Starrk; Grimmjow and Nnoitra moved forwards in unison, their reiatsu raising to protect the Shinigami Taichou from the Cero's venomously thrashing energy, Szayel joined them seconds later, Barragan and Zommari left the confines of the Octavo's office. All of them lifting a shield of their own reiatsu that protected Byakuya, while at the same time piled it down on top of the Cero.

Seething, thrashing, panting, sweating. He could feel the crushing weight of their combined strength. He felt it when Rukia and Renji joined in. While their power was wildly beneath that of the Espada, it still added to the force pushing him down into the ground.

 _'All of them... They're all in on it... Fuckin' treacherous lyin' bastards... I'll kill them... All of them... Who do they think they're dealin' with?!'_ His mind was a jumble of angry cats trying to break loose as mania took hold, his struggles growing more and more frantic as he kicked and tossed and turned and wriggled.

“Walls of iron sand, a priestly pagoda, glowing ironclad fireflies. Standing upright, silent to the end.” Byakuya's hands were clasped again, fingers knotted tightly as five small orbs of yellow light emerged and formed a circle, “Bakudō 75: Gochūtekkan!”

The Cero Espada released a Hollowfied shout, golden eyed almost slit-like as he managed to tear an arm free, raising it towards the Shinigami and charging the fastest Cero of his life. He would obliterate him right now, and damn the consequences!

Scarlet flooded the room as he let out a cry of pain, body crushed beneath the five tall, thick pillars summoned by the last Bakudō, he let out a sick snort of pleasure as he felt his power collide with something, certain that when the light faded he would be gratified with the sight of bloodied smears against the far wall.

Lifting his head shakily, his smile faded when instead he saw the cracking shell of an orange shield, the long burnt orange hair and warm brown eyes of Orihime Ishida. She was staring at him, her expression set with overflowing determination, Harribel was just behind her, hand on her shoulder. Sonido. The Tres had used her Sonido to get the girl there in time.

Anger spilled into his every fibre as the orange shield broke leaving nothing between him and his captors except the murder in his eyes, “Aizen... Will kill ya all for this...”

“An eventuality... Which we are all prepared for.” Szayel nudged his glasses up his nose, head held high despite the smallest tremble in his voice.

“So what will ya do? Kill me?” Shiro scoffed.

Byakuya let out a quiet groan of discomfort as he pushed his fingers into the wound on his thigh, skin dyed red with blood as deft fingers wove an intricate twine of scrawls up his bared arms, countless whirls and symbols he had memorised after seeing only once. Shiro's body tensed, he knew those symbols. He knew that pattern.

“I WILL NOT GO BACK!” He roared, thrashing again with renewed vigour, “I WILL SEE YA DEAD FIRST, KUCHIKI!”

Sucking in a breath, the Kuchiki heir met his burning gaze, “I would see you try.” Was all he said before raising his hands sharply, “Ye lord! Mask of distance and space, all initiations, swell of hearts, ye who bears the name of Man! On the barrier of light, bind a twin lotus. In the depths of our hearts, hear the demands of the heavens. Bakudō 101: Māji!”

Shiro suddenly put up a greater fight against his restrictions, howling so loudly and with such force that the walls began to shake. Not like this! He wouldn't fall, not from trickery and betrayal. Not like this!

“NO!” He screamed out.

Brilliant green light leapt from the Shinigami's palms, illuminating the laboratory in an almost blinding spark. Byakuya's body wobbled as his arms dropped to his sides, steam rising softly from the smudged markings on his skin, he winced as his knees buckled. He was caught by swift and strong arms around his middle, Byakuya knew already that Grimmjow was holding him up and whispered a weak word of gratitude.

“D-Did it work?” Szayel breathed from beside them, slowly tiptoeing closer to the motionless body of the Cero Espada.

“Yes.” Byakuya whispered, voice harsh from weariness, “It worked.”

He owed Kisuke Urahara a drink when they got out of this, had he not witnessed the man use the incantation all those months ago he would never have been able to pull this off. Slowly standing on his own two feet, he cautiously crouched down in front of Shiro's still form, reaching out nervous fingers and brushing some scattered locks of white hair from his face, nodding more confidently when he saw deeply glazed over eyes.

“It worked.” He said again before he looked around as Rukia sprinted across the room towards him.

“Nii-sama! It's so good to see you.” Her arms were flung around him tightly, her face pressed against his chest, “Are you alright Nii-sama?”

Byakuya held her tightly, letting out a shaky breath as he kissed the top of her head, “I will be fine.” He whispered.

Gone were the days he would show stoicism to her instead of the kindness she deserved. If he had learned anything from his time in Grimmjow's care it was not to hide his feelings from those who mattered the most. Emotions were not shameful. Emotions were not weak.

“Taichou.” Renji reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder, “You look well.”

Smiling faintly, he was relieved to see his Fukutaichou looking so well. Despite having visited the detention centre to receive treatment from Orihime, the work the Human girl had done on his arm had been in a side room away from the other prisoners, he hadn't seen them. He'd only Orihime and Harribel's word on how they were all fairing and it had done little to alleviate his anxieties.

“In truth... I could never have done this without the help of the Espada.” The Kuchiki heir glanced at the curious group of Arrancar, “I owe them a great deal.”

“This was always as much for our benefit as it was for yours.” Nnoitra muttered.

“Shut up, Quinto.” Grimmjow's eyes rolled dramatically before he offered a smile to the Shinigami.

Steel eyes slid back to the open, glazed golden ones, and the nobleman hugged his sister all the tighter for it, “It's up to Ichigo now.” He whispered.

Byakuya's expression evened out and his jaw clenched in certainty. He would keep his vow. If Ichigo did not return... If Shiro rose again... He would end him. He would keep his promise to Ichigo, if it was the very last thing he ever did.


	62. Ocean Depths, Mighty Slumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the darkest depths of the ocean, a hibernating man bathed in monochrome begins to wake up and find his feet again.

The icy water was a shock to the system, plunging beneath the surface of an inky black ocean. Heart racing, chest tightening as the cold fist of panic squeezed every last breath from his chest. The lit surface was a mocking taunt, no matter how hard he kicked his legs, no matter how huge the strokes of his arms were he didn't seem to rise. It wasn't graceful or elegant, it was frantic and frenzied. The burning of his chest, the need to breathe.

The gentle but constant caress of water against his lips had him fighting not to open his mouth, but it invaded his nose regardless. Blowing out a deep breath, expelling the water out again. His body was fighting, wanting to breathe in. His legs were heavy, weighted by the feeling of frigid fingers clawing at his bare skin. His movements were slowing, it was so hard to make his limbs move. Even his arms were growing heavy. The chill, the cold, the bite. It was seeping into his bones. Body screaming for rest. For sleep. Go back to sleep.

Everything was muted. Everything was distant. Like being on the wrong side of a window, and trying to listen for the voices beyond. Muffled. Hushed. Desperate. Reaching out. Clutching urgently. Gripping. Slipping.

He was sinking again. Or was he floating? Which way was up?

Scowling. He was definitely scowling. He could feel the frustrated line of skin between his eyebrows. Why was he scowling? Had something happened? No. He'd been asleep. For so long. It felt eternal, like a slumbering grasp was drawing him ever deeper, ever further away from that pale filtering light high above.

How long had he been here? How much time had past since he had surrendered his soul to his Hollow? How much time had past since Ulquiorra... His muscles were tight, tense and achy as his body flinched at the thought of the Cuatro Espada. Wriggling away from the dark memory, the painful shame. The humiliation.

He'd seen Shiro defeat Ulquiorra though. That sickening crunch as his mask had come free and rolled across the rooftop. But then the currents had become violent, crashing around his body, dragging him deep. Tiredness had taken him. Eyelids too heavy to stay open. Body to heavy to fight. He'd sunk to the very bottom of that black ocean. Dormant. Sleeping.

But there had been that moment, hadn't there? Thoughts of home, of Karakura town, of family, sisters. Yuzu and Karin. What had sparked that memory? Big hazel eyes. Small innocent frame. Childlike. Nel. Nelliel. Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck.

Reaching. He was reaching. Fingers clasping at empty air, empty water. Empty. Why was it empty?

Sucking in a breath, one he felt he had been denied for too long, lungs burning at the sudden action. Why was water not flooding his nose and throat as it had when he'd fallen? Another breath, the same result. He could breathe!

His body hurt. Every inch of flesh and muscle and bone ached with riotous throbs that threatened to send him back into the depths of unconsciousness.

No. It would not. He had slept for long enough. Allowing seconds, minutes, hours... Days... How long had he slept? How long had he been cocooned so deeply inside his own mind that he had forgotten how to draw breath?

Fingers flexed. Arms extended. Legs unfurled. Back straightened. Eyes... Opened.

Ichigo thrashed momentarily, instinct getting the better of him as he found himself in the familiar scene of drowning oceans so dark his own skin was almost impossible to see. He stilled, blinking as he found his descent halted. He wasn't sinking anymore. He was... Drifting.

He could see the light above him, it was so far away, a distant shimmer reminding him of better times. Times before Hueco Mundo. Times before Las Noches. Times before Ulquiorra. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself protectively, heart sinking as he failed to blot out the memories that washed across his mind like a tsunami. The current around him shifted and changed, carrying him away with it.

Eyes widening as he nudged against something firm, something immovable and sturdy, he cast his gaze around again, brow furrowing in confusion as he reached out, touching the smooth surface of the building he had bumped into. His head tilted, chestnut eyes going up and down as more memories trickled back.

This... Was a skyscraper. Squinting told him that it was blue, dark blue, with hundreds of delicate glass windows and no internal features. He knew this building. Fingers dipped into the deep groove of a sword mark, a cut he had made there many long years ago.

_He was utterly abominable at sensing reiatsu, even his own. But this was a matter of success verses failure and the latter simply wasn't an option. What had that grim looking guy said? Find the source of his Shinigami powers, and he would learn his identity._

_Easy for him to say, the Inner World was crumbling, blazing sunlight bright enough to show that thousands of skyscrapers that were decomposing, scattering into hundreds of thousands of plain white boxes. Apparently, within one such box, the source of his power resided._

_He had to focus hard, remembering what Rukia had told him. Shinigami spirit ribbons were red. Human ribbons were white. Red. Red. Where was the redness he needed? There were ribbons in every direction, swarming him, suffocating him and blinding him._

_A flicker of crimson. To his left! His hand shot out, faster than he'd expected, cutting through the meaningless white until long fingers snagged the much desired blood red thread. He pulled harshly at it, yanking its adjoining box closer and watching as it fell open, revealing a bland looking hilt._

“ _You did well to find me.” The gruff voice of the grim soul came from behind him, making him jerk in surprise, “Now... Pull me out.”_

_He couldn't deny the order given, his fingers snatching out and clasping the hilt, it felt so right in his palm, grooves fitting his fingers perfectly, the weight evenly matched, the balance just a little back heavy, but not so noticeable that it would effect its use._

“ _The enemy is one, and you are one. Cast off your fear. Look forward! Go forward! Never stand still. Retreat and you will age. Hesitate and you will die!”_

_The words resonated deep within the core of his being as he tucked the hilt under his arm, reiatsu soaring as the power eclipsed everything he had already experienced in Shino Academy. Despite his not so subtle inability to sense reiatsu, he knew a strong Shinigami or student when he saw one. This was different. This was better. This was bigger. This was him._

“ _Go forward! And shout my name! For I am...”_

“ _ZANGETSU!” Ichigo's voice erupted from the very pit of his belly, power surging forwards as the weight in his hands shifted, altered, bent and twisted, coiling around the very heart of his soul. The body sized blade that formed in his grasp was sturdy, strong and incredibly pretentious, much like himself._

_Panting at the exertion, humbled to finally know the name of his Zanpakutō, he looked down thoughtfully at the huge sword. But there was still that pent up power, pulsing beneath the surface of his skin, thrumming like an engine, growling like a tiger ready to pounce._

_He twisting, arcing the sword up experimentally, his eyes widening in surprise as a broad stroke of brilliant blue light tore across the street, cutting a deep groove into the building opposite him, “Holy shit!”_

Ichigo felt a smile touch his lips at the memory. So many years had passed since he had successfully summoned his Zanpakutō. Zangetsu had been a headstrong but reliable comfort to him, even when he hadn't wanted it. Accepting his emptiness, his treachery towards Soul Society, his ill-advised connection to Aizen. The grim soul offered much needed advice when it was utterly necessary, and had saved his life on a few occasions.

He owed him a lot, he wasn't sure he'd ever realised just how much. Even if the rest of the world faded away, even if his friends turned to ash and dust and left him alone, Zangetsu would always remain. Loyal, open and stubborn.

Using the wall as leverage, he began to swim upwards, he could see the lip of the building, the curve towards the flat rooftop. He found the ascent easier than before, actually making progress, instead of grasping at empty air unable to move, he was moving of his own will, gliding higher within the treacherous depths of water.

His head popped over the edge of the building, eyes drawn instantly to the empty podium which normally housed the Soul of his sword. He didn't mind as much as he thought he would, to discover it empty, and carefully climbed onto the flatness, allowing his body to rest for a few minutes. Despite it being easier to move, it was still consuming energy at an alarming rate. He didn't want to risk falling asleep again. Not when he'd just woken. He found himself staring at the dank, waist length locks of hair floating around him. Was that his?

Rolling onto his back and looking up at the ripples of light overhead, he wondered just how deep down he was under the water, and why. Why was his Inner World flooded?

“This world rains when your heart is troubled, and troubled you became during your fight with Aaroniero.” A familiar voice called out.

Ichigo's head snapped around and he let out a relieved breath as he saw the wafting dark cloak and wavy haired man hovering nearby, “Old Man Zangetsu! You mean... Finding out about my family caused _this_?”

“No...” A slow shake of the head, “The rain stopped when you defeated the wretch. But the storm came after. When you encountered Ulquiorra Cifer.”

The strawberry flinched, lips pursed as he wrapped his arms around himself, “I... I couldn't... I couldn't do anything... He was too strong...”

“It wasn't your fault, Ichigo.”

“It was! I should have been more careful... I should have been stronger...” His hands were shaking, “I couldn't do anything!”

The memory of Ulquiorra's breath rolling down his neck made him feel sick, his skin burning with shame as he remembered his touch, his thrusts and his bite. Ichigo's hands rose to his throat, a startled gasp escaping him when he felt a puckered scar where Ulquiorra's sword had bitten into his throat, trying to behead him.

“If you were not strong enough, then get stronger now! You have slept long enough! You have wept long enough!” Zangetsu's voice was firmer now, harder and more determined, “You must cast off your fear Ichigo! Remember the vow you made!”

“Vow?” He repeated weakly.

Zangetsu took languid steps towards him, long coat fluttering around his body even beneath the volumes of water, his hands withdrew from his pockets and clasped Ichigo's face firmly, drawing them nose to nose, “As a child, what did you decide to protect?”

“Protect?” He repeated again, staring deeply into the Zanpakutō's eyes as the world shifted around him, and he plunged forwards.

_Ichigo peeked through the gap in the door, wishing he could see who his father was talking to. It was unusual for them to have guests so late at night, and he couldn't shake the feeling it was important. He pouted as he realised he would have no chance of sating his curiosity and began plodding back up the stairs to his bedroom, rubbing his eyes blearily._

_He froze when he reached the top, coming face to face with the warmth of his mother, she was crouched down, staring straight into his guilty eyes. He fidgeted uncomfortably under the intense gaze and chewed his bottom lip as he expected a reprimand._

“ _Too excited to sleep?” She asked, smiling at him, “Your sisters are due any day now, I suppose it makes sense.”_

_He glanced at her swollen stomach, his expression softening affectionately as he reached out and gently rubbed the inflated baby bump, “Yeah. I can't wait to meet them both. I'm gonna be the best big brother ever! I'm gonna protect them no matter what! I heard Dad saying that's what my name means... To protect. So... That's what I wanna do. I wanna protect them, and you and Dad! No matter what!”_

_Sweet caresses to his hair made his eyes flick back up to hers, her smile was even brighter, “You are going to do wonderful things, my sweet Strawberry.”_

_He cringed at the nickname but there was no way he could be angry at her. She was his whole world. The reason for his smile. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to keep her safe. To keep his sisters safe._

“ _I love you Mum.” He beamed suddenly, round cheeks flushing red as he jumped into her arms, hugging her tightly and gripping one of her hands in his own._

“ _And I love you, sweetheart. Now, let's get you to bed before your father realises you've been eavesdropping again.” She guided him towards his bedroom with a giggle._

“ _Who was he talking to?” He asked, climbing into his bed obediently._

“ _No one important, love, just an old work friend.” Masaki replied as she tucked him in._

“ _A doctor?” He tilted his head._

“ _No... Not a doctor.” Her fingers combed through his spiky orange hair affectionately, “A shop owner.”_

Ichigo released a gargle from the back of his throat as he withdrew from the memory, frowning faintly in confusion, “Urahara... Urahara knew my dad... Why did he never say?”

“Have you remembered what you vowed to protect?” Zangetsu asked, one eyebrow lifted curiously.

Gulping, he gave a curt nod, “Yes... I wanted to protect my mother... My father... My sisters... I wanted to keep the safe no matter what. I'd protect them, no matter what. Fat lot of good that did them.”

“As a child, you failed your heart's desire to protect those closest to you. But as an adult, you have strived onwards, protecting and defending those you care about with reckless abandon, risking your own life to spare theirs. Renji Abarai... Rukia Kuchiki... Byakuya Kuchiki... Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck...”

His eyes flashed, “Nel?! Then... That wasn't a dream after all!”

Zangetsu shook his head slowly, “Shiro discovered her in the sands of Hueco Mundo and planned to kill her. However, the moment he saw her, your instincts washed over him. Even while in the deepest slumbers of this world, your heart won. You would never harm a child.”

He remembered. It was faint. Distant. Like an echo of an echo. The surge of adrenaline, the lifting of the sword, the sight of the frightened little curl cowering in the sand. Big hazel eyes and a cracked Hollow mask. She was beautiful, adorable, innocent. Yuzu. Karin. The sword had slipped from his grasp. No... From Shiro's grasp.

He remembered. It rang closer. Clearer. Clarity whispered around him like the touch of an affectionate friend, fingers caressing his shoulder. He had ordered Harribel to incarcerate Nnoitra in the detention centre for five days with his reiatsu cut off as punishment for having harmed Nel. He had instructed Starrk to take Nel to Szayel for treatment. It had been him. Not Shiro.

Why was it getting brighter?

Why was the grey chrome of his skin turning tanned?

Why was the dark, lank extents of his waist length hair turning orange?

His body wasn't hurting. His arms were no longer heavy. His legs no longer stiff. His back arched straighter than before, shoulders drawn back, eyes open wide as his lips tightened in a determined line, he glowered towards his destination, teeth clenching as he realised he wasn't sinking at all. He was rising.

Ichigo's head broke the surface, the huge and deafening gasp he took rattled inside his chest and his head, his eyes squinting tightly as he was all but blinded by the wondrous warmth of the sun. Rays of light were beating down on him as he tried to make sense of this new world.

Tipping his head back, he released a small smile, eyes sliding shut as he allowed the heat of the sun to dry his skin and his clothes. He wondered briefly if he was experiencing the joys of the first sunset he'd ever cared to take notice of, though he corrected himself swiftly by realising that what he was enjoying was actually a sunrise.

And end to the dark. The beginning of a new day. The dawn had come.

Opening his eyes lazily, he felt only slightly surprised when he found himself standing on the rooftop of a skyscraper. The water was gone. The darkness was gone. The emptiness was gone. He was awake. The sun was rising for him. No... In this world that was almost entirely made up of him, he realised that he was the sun. And _he_ was rising.

“Your friends are still imprisoned within Las Noches, Ichigo.” A new voice came from behind him.

He turned slowly, head tilted curiously to see the owner of the new velvet tones, his eyebrows puckering as he came face to face with startling blue eyes and short black hair. He looked familiar, and yet... Not.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Zangetsu.”

“You don't look like Zangetsu.” He noted the black katana in the younger man's hand.

“I am Tensa Zangetsu.”

“Tensa?” He frowned.

“This is the form of our Bankai. I am appearing to you like this now, because my older form no longer has anything to teach you. All of his wisdom, is now within you.” This version of his Zanpakutō was even more serious than the last, and yet there was that same deep seated compassion.

He was momentarily distracted when his long locks of hair were caught in a breeze, fluttering around his face and causing him to try and tame it, “Where did all this come from anyway.” He muttered to himself.

“A reluctant mimic of Shiro's current appearance. Just as he previously bore your characteristics, you now bear his.” Tensa's voice was calm, but there was a hint of distaste there as well, “That Hollow... I should have dealt with him for you many years ago.”

Ichigo paused his actions, staring over at the dark haired youth, “No... You shouldn't. It's... It's my duty to deal with him. It always has been. I put it off for so long, believing we could cooperate. We would always have come to blows eventually, I think I knew that, I just wanted to pretend otherwise. This is on me.”

“You've matured.”

Surprised that he didn't find the statement offensive, but rather, agreed, the strawberry haired Shinigami cast his eye over the skyscraper town, “I have to fight him, don't I?”

“Yes.”

“He's stronger than I am.” He noted.

“Yes, he is.”

A click of the tongue against his teeth drew his eyes back to his Zanpakutō, “But... I am not alone.”

“No,” Tensa smiled slowly, “You are not.”

“I never have been, I just didn't see it. All the times I shouted for Shiro's help I should have shouted for you too.” Ichigo sighed deeply, he'd relied so heavily on his Hollow he'd forgotten to appreciate his Zanpakutō's uniqueness as well.

“Your life as a Shinigami has been a complex one, Ichigo. I don't resent you for it. But if you don't get out of here, sooner rather than later, you won't have a chance to make up for it.”

He nodded slowly, flexing his fingers, “You're right. I let my shame and humiliation weigh me down, my fear of... Of what others would think of me... I let Shiro take control. I let him remain in control even after Ulquiorra was dealt with... That isn't me. I'm not a coward...”

“Then you fight. You stand strong, and tall, you face forwards and you move. You never stand still. You take back control.” Tensa closed the distance between them, looking into his eyes sternly.

“How?” He asked.

“You awoke because of outside influence. Someone has tried to banish Shiro here. I didn't dare let him in while you were still sleeping, I've been holding him in limbo as I did after Sôkyoku Hill. But he is stronger than he was back then. He will break through soon. You must be ready.”

“Outside influence?” Ichigo repeated, his breath catching, “Byakuya?”

“Who else?” Tensa raised one eyebrow, “He'll never stop fighting for you. So it's time you fought back.”

Ichigo looked down at himself, watching as his surprisingly long locks of hair fluttered around him his face felt warm, thinking that Byakuya was still out there waiting. His friends were out there waiting. Rukia, Renji, Chad, Orihime, Ishida... They were all waiting. Waiting for him!

“Ichigo!” Tensa's voice rang out, “He's here.”

Eyes narrowing as he felt the ominous presence hitting the atmosphere of his Inner World, he cast his gaze skywards, determination only increased as he saw the blue sky rip open like a Garganta, a solitary albino figure thrown unceremoniously through the gap and towards the streets below.

Ichigo looked at Tensa Zangetsu, offering a small smile to the strict Spirit he held his hand out, “We do this together.”

Blue eyes softened very slightly and Tensa gripped his hand tightly, transforming and taking the form of a sword. The same length as his body, the huge blade fit snugly in his grasp, like he'd never stopped wielding him. Ichigo ran towards the raised side of the skyscraper without a moment of hesitation, leaping off the edge.

“BAN-” He saw golden eyes snap up to meet him, “-KAI!”


	63. Remember Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and Shiro clash inside their Inner World, both violent and desperate to regain control. As their conflict persists, outside in Las Noches, Byakuya finds himself reluctant to abandon the Espada to their fates.

Sparks flew in torrents of clashing metal, the ring of steel deafened by the grunts and yells of the fight; the landscape changed dramatically as a result of each swing, skyscrapers brought to rubble beneath the swirling cascades of reiatsu.

Ichigo's eyes were narrowed, determined, righteous. Shiro's were wide, agitated and enraged.

They couldn't have looked more similar, and yet more different if they had tried. The sleek black katana, the inverted body sized blade. Even outside of Bankai, Shiro was formidable and relentless. Their swords crunched, thundering together in flurries of heated attacks and jibes, black and white shihakusho billowing around them with the flawless undulation of their movements.

Precise. Exact. Decisive. Practised.

Ichigo could feel Zangetsu's presence within his sword, the blossoming power of the moody soul an ever constant ally. Shiro's blade felt empty in comparison. It was as Hollow as he was. Unlike any of their spats in the past, this time they both meant business. Both fighting for freedom, for control, for dominance. Neither were willing to relent. Neither were willing to surrender.

“How long have ya been awake?!” Shiro demanded, ducking a high swing and retaliating with a low blow to the ribs.

“Long enough to know... You need to be stopped!” He spat back, taking a brisk step back as his foot slid across the still damn tarmac, stabbing forwards, twisting at the last minute as he kicked the Hollow in the face, “How long had you been planning to drown me?”

“Since ya were in ya mama's womb.” Came the snarled reply.

Lips thinned and Ichigo upped his speed again, driving his former partner back, forcing him to go on the defensive. It didn't matter how strong Shiro had become in the outside world, it didn't matter how long he had slept, it didn't matter how many times he felt the sting of steel against his skin. He wasn't fighting alone. He had never been fighting alone. He just hadn't realised it before.

He roared, digging his feet into the tarmac and propelling himself forwards, blade outstretched between his fingers as he drove harder, drove faster, drove deeper. Clangs of metal grew louder in his ears, more resounding, more tiring.

Whether it was luck, or fate, or skill, he didn't know. But he managed to throw Shiro off balance, thrusting the Hollow down onto the concrete and arching his blade towards his neck, determined to end it once and for all. Determined to bring it all to an end.

Shiro's hand lifted in front of his face, blackened energy swirling at the tips of his fingers as he let out an ear splitting roar, tearing his black and white mask on. The sudden red hot pain of the albino's sword cutting into his shoulder, digging deep into muscle and bone.

Howling, the strawberry haired Shinigami fell sideways, staggering as he clutched his shoulder between his fingers. His back hit the wall of one of the many skyscrapers, his body shaking as pain rocketed through him. Had he slept for so long that he'd forgotten the pain of stab wounds?

“You bastard...” Ichigo panted, grimacing at the sticky consistency of his blood he couldn't take his eyes off that mask, “What have you been doing out there? What have you been doing with my body?!”

“ _Your_ body?!” The white Hollow cackled loudly, bringing his white sword up and slowly running his tongue along the bloodied tip, growling, “It ain't yer body anymore! Ya gave it to _me_! Gave yerself to _me_! I ain't in the habit of givin' shit back.”

“I surrendered so we could both survive!” Ichigo snapped, testing how far he could raise his sword arm now his shoulder was damaged, “I surrendered because there was no other choice!”

“Ya surrendered 'cause yer weak! Ya always have been! Ya would have been dead a thousand times over if it wasn't for me savin' yer ass!” Sword twirling at his side, the Hollow took several slow steps forwards, “Now... Be a good boy, and go back to sleep. I got some treacherous motherfuckers to kill on the outside, startin'... With yer precious Byakuya Kuchiki.”

Ichigo tensed, scowl darkening, “Maybe you're right, maybe I would be dead without you. Whether by Ulquiorra's hands, Aizen's, Byakuya's or... God knows who else. And I'm grateful to you. Truly I am.” His fingers tightened around the hilt of his Zanpakutō, forcing his arm to rise straight out, “But this ends today. You won't be hurting anyone else. Not as long as I live.”

“That... Can be fixed.” Came the sneer as the Hollow shot forwards, twisting and winding and coiling his muscles and body, his form blurring with the speed of his movements.

Eyes darting side to side, trying to track the insane speed of his Sonido, Ichigo's pupils dilated and his heart began to thunder as he felt the familiar surge of power growing in the palms of his hands. His sword lifted above his head, fingers tightening around the hilt, his mind calming of everything other than the fight, “Getsuga Tenshou!”

He roared, swinging his sword around with all his might, delivering a heavy blow against Shiro's blade. Both men shared a look of surprise when Shiro's Zangetsu began to crack beneath the force as brilliant black and red energy swirled around them. It imploded, throwing them both apart.

Ichigo crashed through a window, fragments of glass spearing his back and his legs as he rolled across the carpeted floors of the inside of one of the skyscrapers. Groaning, he stabbed the tip of his sword into the floor and used it to clamber back to his feet. Was his Getsuga Tenshou usually that powerful?

“Why is he so fucking strong?” He muttered, groaning as he began to feel the fatigue of battle, his hand once again raising to the deep wound in his shoulder.

“ _Always asking questions, even when you already know the answers.”_ Tensa's voice filled his head and Ichigo glared at the black katana still sticking in the floor before him.

“What's that meant to mean?”

“ _He is strong... Because you are strong.”_ The Zanpakutō sounded amused and yet serious at the same time, _“We must finish this soon. If he overpowers you there may not be a second chance to regain control, Ichigo.”_

Letting out a long breath, the young man tore his sleeve off and used it to bind his wound, stemming the flow of blood, “I know... I can't let this opportunity go to waste. But he's so strong, and I still feel so tired.”

Ichigo reached out, resting his hand on the hilt of his Zanpakutō, his fingers curled and he pulled the blade free. He had to win. The lives of his friends were depending on it. They had all tried so hard to give him the chance he needed. He couldn't let it go to waste. He couldn't. But what could he do? Shiro didn't seem able to use Bankai, but he still had that mask... The mask seemed to increase his strength and his speed, and on top of that he was burning reckless hate personified, he had all the advantages.

“ _Not all of them.”_

Tensa's voice sounded smug and for a moment Ichigo was sure he could see the black haired soul standing in front of him. The Zanpakutō's arms were folded over his chest, his long cloak rippling around him, his eyebrows furrowed despite the smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“ _Everything that he is, everything that he can do... Originally came from you, Ichigo. He was the will of the Hōgyoku, Aizen's will for an equal.”_ The spectral, ghostly image of Tensa pointed at him, index finger pressing into his chest, _“You are what you were always meant to be, Ichigo. A Human with the power to protect.”_

Ichigo hesitated, looking at the sword in his hands. Tensa was right, of course. His mum had been a Human, but even she was unique. There was no doubt in his mind that she had known all about Shinigami and Soul Society, Hollows and everything that came with it. She'd been too aware of the danger Aizen posed... Too aware of everything.

“ _She was never just a Human.”_

He knew that, deep down he knew. He wasn't completely sure what it meant, not yet, it was something he'd deal with when he got his body back. But he knew there was more to her than met the eye. She'd been special, and not just because she had been the centre of his universe. She had known about Shinigami. Known about Hollows. She'd known Urahara just like his dad had... She was way more than just a regular Human.

Sucking in a breath, Ichigo smiled a little. His dad had been a Shinigami, strong and powerful. A Taichou. A noble. He would always have ended up a Shinigami too, it was in his blood. It was who he was. The power that had been handed down to him, passed on from father to son. What was it Byakuya had told him? Nobles were born with naturally deeper reserves of reiatsu than Souls who became Shinigami after reaching Soul Society after their Human deaths. He _was_ a noble. He _was_ a Shiba. He had _never_ died as a Human.

But then... What the fuck did that make him?

“ _It makes you Ichigo Kurosaki.”_

Ulquiorra had taken so much from him. His pride, his dignity, his body. He'd felt so entirely bathed in shame and humiliation, and yet he had never once stopped to think that Zangetsu had seen everything. Just as Shiro had seen it. Why did he always reach for Shiro's power first? Why wasn't he brave enough to rely on what he had been born with?! He could have beaten Ulquiorra if he had been willing to accept himself and stop holding back!

Ulquiorra... Ulquiorra Cifer had NOT taken away who he was! He had not taken away his right to live! He had not taken away his life! He was still breathing, still fighting, still living! If he gave up... If he stopped fighting then Ulquiorra would win. He would lose everything because he didn't have the guts to stand back up and keep fighting. That wasn't who he was. That wasn't what he was!

“ _If you believe in yourself... If you believe in us... Your potential will truly become limitless.”_

“I know.” He said quietly, “I know.”

The strawberry haired Shinigami sucked in a breath, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade as he watched Tensa's image disappear. This was his Inner World. His body. Shiro was a passenger, a visitor. But... More than that, if Zangetsu was right and Shiro was always the union of Aizen's wish for someone equal to him, and his own latent powers then... The solution would never be as simple as just killing him. If he killed him, he would kill part of himself too.

Ichigo smiled slowly, letting out a surprised chuckle, “I just have to do what I always do... I just have to win.”

“ _Remember your determination. Remember your vow. Remember your resolve!”_

He tightened his grasp on the hilt of his sword and shot forwards in a burst of speed, darting back through the shattered window and out into the street. His back was straight, shoulders pulled back, head held high. Ichigo's eyes flitted around, trying to catch that glint of white before it got to close.

Arching back suddenly, he watched as a white blade slashed at the air where his head had been just seconds before. He lifted his arm and parried the blow, black sword arching upwards in defiance. He twisted, hooking the blade in the black bandages wrapped around the hilt of Shiro's Shikai and flicked the white blade out of the Hollow's hand with apparent ease.

“I won't be forced into hiding by you again,” he said simply, meeting the angry golden gaze fearlessly, “I'm done playing games Shiro.”

“W-What happened to ya?” The albino was frowning, eyes wide as he took a step back, almost seeming repulsed by the sudden confidence.

“I finally remembered... That I do not bow down to the likes to Ulquiorra Cifer! I do not bow down to the likes of Aizen!” He barked, taking a step towards his Hollow, “I remembered who I am!”

Shiro snapped, “I've built a life for myself! I won't let ya take it from me! Ya don't deserve it! Yer a nobody!”

With one swift motion, the tip of Zangetsu was firmly notched beneath the albino's chin, Ichigo's eyes blazing as he saw a bead of sweat roll down pale skin, “I am truly sorry Shiro, and maybe one day we can find a way to live our own lives. But I am Ichigo Kurosaki! Head of the Shiba Clan! Third Seat of Division Six! And I am going to go out there and marry Byakuya Kuchiki!”

Hissing as he suddenly felt a burning sting across his skin, Ichigo stared in surprise as black whorls spread up his forearms. The Shiba Clan markings. Restoring the one he had lost when Shiro had taken over, more etched themselves across his skin. They reached all the way up to his shoulders before finally stopping.

“Yer nothin' without me.” The Hollow snapped, but there was a definite glimmer of fear now, “Kill me, ya kill yerself.”

“I'm not going to kill you Shiro.” Ichigo muttered, “No matter what you've done, no matter who you've hurt... You are part of me, I am part of you. And I will _always_ accept you!”

“Tch,” Shiro's top lip curled in distaste, “Ya make me sick.”

Almost in slow motion, Ichigo watched as the albino shot forwards and rolled across the tarmac, his pale fingers coiling around the hilt of his discarded sword as his free hand tore his Hollow mask back on. A fast charging ball of glowing red flickered into life between the horns, head twisting to aim at the strawberry. The Cero detonated. He felt himself behind thrown back, hitting the floor, his head smacking painfully off the concrete walkway.

He was dizzy, nauseous and startled by the lack of searing pain in his chest where the Cero should have hit. Ichigo flinched, hearing a small groan and suddenly realising there was an additional weight currently sprawled over his body.

“Zangetsu!” He exclaimed, rolling the dark haired spirit off him.

He could smell charred flesh immediately, his gut churning violently at the sight of the awful burn. Ichigo's hands were shaking, uncertain what would happen if his Zanpakutō's spirit died in his Inner World. He tried to wake him, but he was out cold.

“Fuck...” The strawberry hissed, adrenaline pumping faster as anger replaced his weariness.

“Who's gonna shield ya this time?” Shiro's voice was close, manic and cocky.

Ichigo could feel him, he was within touching distance and the heat of another Cero was making the skin on his left hand side blister. He was weaponless as long as Zangetsu remained unconscious. But that didn't mean he was defenceless.

It was hard, but he allowed his anger to ebb away. Leaving him with a level head and a coolness that acted as a balm against his injuries. He wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't angry anymore. Ichigo closed his eyes and sucked in a slow, even breath as his hands rested on his legs in a meditation-like posture.

In a hushed voice, barely above a whisper he spoke, “The enemy is one and you are one. Cast off your fear.”

Shiro was laughing, his high pitched silvery cackles almost seemed the shake the walls of the skyscrapers. He was taking his time to charge the Cero this time. He clearly wanted it to count.

“Look forward. Go forward.” Ichigo finally felt like he understood Zangetsu's wisdom and it called to some primal part of his soul, “Never stand still. Retreat and you will age. Hesitate and you will... Die.”

As the Cero fired straight and Ichigo's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with a swirling blue energy not dissimilar to his reiatsu. It rushed down his body, encasing him in a fiery tomb of rippling power. His hand came up as his head turned. Blue and gold locked in a battle of wills. His fingers stretched out, a low roar building in his chest as he caught the Cero between his fingers.

He was rising, standing on his own two feet again, fingers tense as his muscles threatened to spasm against the onslaught of raging energy currently clasped in his fist. He could see terror in those golden eyes. Confusion and disbelief as well.

With a final shout, a final push of reiatsu and an open mouthed grin that could rival Shiro's usual insanity Ichigo threw the Cero aside and lunged at the Hollow. He felt the white Zangetsu tear through his stomach as it impaled his body, blood splashing the pavement but he didn't stop moving. Thrusting Shiro backwards, away from the unconscious Zanpakutō spirit on the floor.

One hand tightly clenched in long white hair. One hand ripped a winding black horn off the Hollow's mask. He drove it up through Shiro's gut, matching the placement of the stab wound in his own body perfectly. Shiro's eyes seemed to go impossibly wide, pupils shrinking to mere cat-like slits as he gasped for breath, sucking it in with a wheezy rattle.

“W-What... Have ya... Done?” The albino gargled, blood filling his mouth, “Ya... Ya killed us both...”

Ichigo winced as the pain finally registered and his body convulsed painfully, but he smirked, “Scared, Shiro?”

* * *

Byakuya was pacing the laboratory for what felt like the one hundredth time. It had been well over an hour since he had successfully banished Shiro back into the prison of his Inner World, and during that time there had been pained grunts and hisses escaping from his unconscious form, wells of blood streaking his clothes, only to heal over seconds later due to his regenerative abilities.

The onlooking Espada had been concerned by such notions until he had taken the time to explain that it was in fact a positive sign, dictating that there was at least some form of resistance, some form of conflict going on inside the Inner World. Whether or not that resistance was Ichigo however, was impossible to tell.

He heaved a sigh, perching against one of the empty beds as he vaguely listened to the narrative of those around him.

Szayel was cautiously indulging himself in conversation with Ishida, apparently never having met a Quincy before his arrival in Las Noches. The scientist was in his element and while somehow disregarding his natural hatred towards everyone, Ishida was at least somewhat content to answer his questions.

Starrk, Harribel and Lilynette were sat together on one of the beds behind him, he couldn't make out much from the way they kept their voices hushed. But he was certain he heard something about contacting a 'friend' in the World of the Living. A curious notion, as he was sure the Espada had never mentioned a field agent in the World of the Living. Starrk had disappeared into Szayel's office moments later.

Barragan was alone, sat on his skeletal throne in silence. Eyes closed as he seemed to simply absorb his surroundings. In similar fashion, Zommari was meditating near the work surfaces, quiet words resembling some kind of mantra occasionally passing his lips.

Nnoitra was with his Fracción Tesra. The Fracción was small compared to his Espada master, with short dirty blond hair and brown eyes, one of which was covered by an eyepatch. There was a single turquoise marking on his right cheek, and the remnants of his Hollow mask resembled a thin upper jaw which formed a circlet around his forehead. It was oddly heart warming when the Kuchiki heir realised just how close the two men were stood to each other, looks of fondness passing between them both.

Byakuya found himself wondering just how rare it really was for Hollows to experience love and shook his head, letting out a small sigh. Rukia and Renji were keeping their eyes on the palace's numerous cameras in case of unexpected visitors, while Chad and Orihime dealt with healing an unconscious Nelliel. Everyone was working together. Shinigami, Hollows, Humans... He'd never expected to see willing cooperation between them all.

“You know this happened because of you, right?” Grimmjow's voice was low as he leaned against the bed next to him, hands shoved deeply in his pockets as his keen eyes scanned the room.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Bullshit. You were wonderin' how we all ended up gettin' along like this. I'm tellin' you now, Byakuya, it is because of you.” The Sexta sounded deadly serious, “None of the Espada cared that much about anyone... Sure Harribel and Starrk were the most sentimental but even they would never have done anything against Aizen. That all changed when you got here, when you showed us concern. I don't know what you did... But somehow... You humanised us.”

“In a way that makes it harder.” He whispered.

“What does?”

“Knowing that no matter what I do from here on... You will all be in danger of punishment for your actions here today. Shiro was right when he said Aizen wouldn't be forgiving. I brought you to this point and yet I can do nothing to save you from the outcome.” Steel eyes turned to meet blue ones, “I never imagined in all my wildest dreams that I should ever want to help a Hollow...”

Grimmjow nodded once and offered him a small smile, “What about helping a friend?”

Byakuya's expression softened at that, a rare smile gracing his lips, “Yes... Yes that is something I would want to do.”

Grimmjow had revealed himself to be a friend, not just an ally. Despite the danger and the destruction, there was intelligence and kindness there too. He had a loyal streak to those who earned it. Starrk and Harribel also, they had come to his aid on more than one occasion, they had listened to him and helped him. And they were two of the most mentally sound Hollows he had ever met. They were, in fact, a joy to be around.

Byakuya's heart sank as he was faced with the reality of his situation. He didn't want to abandon them to their fate, even if he somehow escaped. He didn't want to leave them behind to suffer.

“Quit worryin' so much,” Grimmjow said suddenly, his voice oddly upbeat, “At the start we just wanted to be safe. We didn't want some homicidal maniac Cero takin' us out one by one. But somewhere... Somehow... It became about more than that. Somewhere down the line, we all began to realise just how little we meant to Aizen, the fact that we are all replaceable. Most of us were stickin' around because we owed him for makin' us stronger...”

Biting his lip, the nobleman couldn't help but think... Soul Society wasn't known for changing its opinion on this with any sense of ease. He certainly couldn't see them flipping their feelings towards high level Hollows and considering them as potential allies, rather than enemies. But that is exactly what they were, even if it was only because they shared a mutual foe they were prospective allies.

“Even if we die...” The Sexta reached out, resting a hand on Byakuya's shoulder, “Even if we die for what we've done... We'll die free. Instead of dyin' like slaves. And we've got you to thank for that.”

He opened his mouth to respond, although he wasn't even sure what to say, he was interrupted sharply by a low growl from across the room, drawing his gaze.

Abrupt and aggressive rumbles of reiatsu that began to pour from beneath the Kidō restrains Byakuya and Rukia had put so much effort into casting, every set of eyes in the room seemed to widen at the same time as they watched the restraints and barriers breaking down one by one. More and more reiatsu crashing through the room in an intoxicating swirl.

Taking a few rash steps forwards, Byakuya's breath caught in his chest, dark and oiling tendrils were snapping and attacking the pillars and bonds pinning the Cero Espada in place. Hollow reiatsu. His heart sank and a low groan escaped him, hand moving towards the hilt of his sword.

“What's happening?!” Harribel exclaimed over the tremendous loud gushing of reiatsu washing around them.

The nobleman's mouth had gone dry and his fingers tightened on his Zanpakutō, he knew what he had to do. He'd made his peace with it. He'd made his vow. Aizen couldn't be allowed to have an ally as powerful and dangerous and unruly as Shiro. He'd kill them all. He'd destroy Soul Society, the World of the Living... Everything would perish.

“You need to leave.” He said softly, eyes never straying from the trashing white Hollow.

“W-What?” Grimmjow stared at him in horror, “We're goin' nowhere!”

“Listen to me, he will kill every single one of you without any remorse. He will cut you to pieces and display your corpses along the walls of the palace and he will... Not... Care...” Byakuya met the Sexta's gaze reluctantly, “Look around Grimmjow... Szayel and Zommari are already struggling under his reiatsu... It will kill them if they stay here! Get them out!”

“Do as he says.” Starrk said sharply, already guiding the Octavo and Séptima towards the exit with Lilynette at his side.

The laboratory was chaotic with activity, the Espada were helping the former prisoners under the weight of the crushing reiatsu, getting everyone towards the doors. Everyone except Grimmjow. He stayed, staring at the noble.

“He will kill you too.” Grimmjow said quietly, a small frown furrowing his brow.

Byakuya scoffed, holding his head high, “Who do you think you are talking to? I see your arrogance has dimmed very little during our time together, to believe I could be killed by such a creature.”

The blue haired Espada's hand gripped the noble's wrist tightly, “Cut the crap. You planned for this didn't you? From the moment you realised Aizen had accepted him. I knew there was something different.”

“Take your hands off me.” He said with a false calmness he was proud of, “Go with the others. Get out of here.”

“You're gonna to kill him.” Grimmjow seemed to realise, “That's why you wanted your Zanpakutō back. Why you needed your arm to work properly. You're gonna sacrifice yourself... To take him down.”

Byakuya huffed in frustration and glared at the Sexta, “No one else can do it. No matter how much stronger the Espada are than me... He won't hesitate. He will cut you all down without a thought but with me... He will want to taunt me. Want to make it as painful as possible. His arrogance will be his downfall because he believes I don't have the strength to strike Ichigo down.”

“And do you?”

The Kuchiki heir was saved from answering as at the exact moment the final bonds snapped and released the Cero Espada, the laboratory doors flew open. Byakuya was certain his heart had stopped beating, the subtle caress of reiatsu was familiar and jarring. He turned slowly, watching in horror as Aizen strolled calmly into the laboratory, flanked by Gin and Tōsen.

Shiro's Hollowfied roar was Soul shaking, his hands balled into tight fists as he threw his head back, the howl causing even the likes of Harribel, Barragan and Starrk to cower.

They were trapped in between the murderous Cero Espada and his master, with no where to run.


	64. Blood On The Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya and the Espada find themselves in greater danger than ever before, as Shiro fills Aizen in on the mass betrayal of the Arrancar army and is ultimately given permission to dish out whatever punishment he desires.

They were trapped in between the murderous Cero Espada and his master, with no where to run and no where to hide.

“Perhaps someone would be kind enough to explain exactly what is going on here.” Aizen's voice was calm and his expression impassive, but there was a chill to his words that made Byakuya shudder, “Shiro, what happened?”

The albino was shaking with rage, seething with it. It seemed the instinctual urge to kill was so strong that he almost didn't hear Aizen at first. His hands were shaking at his sides as he unclenched his fists, letting out a slow breath.

“The Espada... Have been conspiring with Kuchiki to get rid of me... Aizen-sama.” He ground out, golden eyes boring into the very souls of everyone involved.

“Is that so?” The brunet sounded almost amused, striding forwards with his hands behind his back, eyes coming to rest on the raven haired nobleman, “It appears you enjoy making a mockery of my home, Byakuya Kuchiki. Perhaps I was mistaken to keep you alive so long.”

Byakuya's eyes widened only slightly when Grimmjow stepped in front of him, shielding him from the other Shinigami's ire, “We were never gonna sit tight and serve under a lunatic who might kill us for sayin' the wrong thing!”

“Grimmjow...” Aizen seemed to tut as he appraised the Espada one by one, “I would expect this kind of rebellion from the likes of you, and Nnoitra. But the rest of you? It is an understatement to say that I am disappointed.”

“Nelliel had nothing to do with it.” Shiro said suddenly, “She tried to protect me, and was injured doing so.”

“I am pleased to hear that at least one of my Espada had their priorities right.” The brunet breathed, seemingly noticing the presence of the prisoners for the first time, “Hm.”

Byakuya felt a pang of fear for his sister, but watched as Starrk seemed to pull Rukia closer, shielding her with his own body, just as Grimmjow had done for him. He felt a great swell of pride and gratitude towards the Primera, and then towards Harribel who also stepped in front of Renji.

“When corruption runs this deeply through an army, only a complete cleansing can restore order. It is a shame, you were all so very promising. Everything I had hoped for.” Aizen's fingers brushed Shiro's hair as he reached him, seemingly assessing him for prominent injuries before he spoke again, “Those of you who saw fit to betray me... Kneel.”

The very air seemed to become stifling and Byakuya watched in horror as the Espada were promptly forced to their knees, he watched as significant sweats seemed to break out across their skin, trembling hands and arms, choked gasps for breath. Aizen was crushing them with his reiatsu. How powerful was he really... To bring all these powerful Espada to their knees without even looking at them?!

“What about him?” Shiro's golden eyes were staring straight at him and Byakuya felt himself gulp.

Aizen's darker gaze flicked in his direction as he caressed the albino's cheek, drawing him up into a kiss that broke only when the brunet spoke, “As my way of an apology, for leaving you to deal with a nest of vipers all by yourself... You may do as you wish with him.”

Byakuya felt his skin chill as he watched the wicked smile stretch across Shiro's lips and he drew Senbonzakura instinctively, lifting the blade as he carefully stepped around Grimmjow's crumpled form. Fear coursed through his veins, but so did frigid purpose.

Each step Shiro took seemed to echo, seemed to make Byakuya's heart skip with cautious nervousness. The disgust etched onto the albino's face was second only to the contempt he was showing too.

“So... Did ya think yer little plan would work? Ya thought... What? I'd disappear into my head and get into a fight with Ichigo? Did ya think he'd win? Ya really thought I'd lose to that... Disgrace?” The albino sneered, eyes running up and down the noble's body, “Fuck knows how ya truly got the Espada to betray Aizen... They will pay for their actions soon enough. But _you_? I am gonna take great pleasure... In carvin' yer heart out and watchin' as it stops beatin'.”

“Believe me,” he growled, “The pleasure will be all mine.”

They fell into an aggressive pattern of clashing, colliding metal and reiatsu, sparks splashing the ground with the force behind each blow. They parted, only to meet again toe to toe within a heartbeat, dancing between the carnage of tables and counters and kneeling bodies.

Byakuya couldn't help but feel the fight was similar, the movements and reflexes of each muscle was like a flashback to a far simpler time. The first time he had summoned Ichigo to the training area in Division Six, the first time he'd felt the young man's strength and reiatsu, the first time he'd seen his skill and witnessed how his movements closely resembled Aizen's. It was like a step back in time.

A hiss escaped his lips as he felt the sting of metal against his cheek, he leapt back with narrowed eyes as he saw blood running down the bleached blade of his enemy.

“Ya looked distracted, Kuchiki, I hope yer takin' this seriously.”

He permitted a growl to break free, apparently he wasn't the only one seeing the correlation. Bursting forwards with Shunpo, he lunged; ducking and weaving around the attacks, it took every ounce of his concentration to keep up, to track the movements of that white blade.

When their blades clattered together again, he threw his weight behind it, trying to overpower the Hollow with muscle and force, his teeth visibly clenched as he grunted against the immovable pressure he was met with. He reached deep, eyes beginning to glow as his reiatsu increased around them, heart racing as he proceeded to rain one debilitating blow after another onto the Cero Espada, letting him feel the full force of his determination.

“Scatter, Senbonzakura!” He called suddenly, shooting backwards as his sword dissolved and Zangetsu impaled the ground where he had just been.

He skidded across the tiled floor, lifting the hilt of his sword as he directed the denumerable petals around Shiro's body, sealing him within the angry torrents of miniscule blades. He could hear the Cero's hisses of pain as he was gouged and slashed and bitten into and for a moment, just a moment, he thought he had the upper hand.

“GETSUGA TENSHOU!”

The explosion of energy sent his petals flying violently across the laboratory, spearing walls and worktops and would have beheaded several of the Espada had Orihime not erected a barrier at the last moment. Byakuya was panting, watching as his sword reformed in his hand, watching as Shiro prowled towards him.

Byakuya couldn't help but wonder if Shiro was drawing things out, he had seen his fight with Ulquiorra and knew he was capable of far more than what he was showing. Perhaps he was toying with him, just as he had with the Cuatro Espada. To fully prove who was better. To belittle and humiliate.

The burn of metal against his ribs startled him, but not as much as the white fingers that suddenly grabbed the front of his shihakusho, yanking him closer. The Kuchiki heir gasped, eyes flying wide as his breath caught in the back of his throat.

The malice was back in those glinting golden eyes. The white blade was coming.

His body arched as he was stabbed, the blade passing through his abdomen with surprising ease. He let out a sharp exhalation, blood and saliva splashing down his chin as he was forced backwards, back colliding with the remnants of a wall as he was pinned there by the sword in his gut.

Byakuya coughed jarringly, his body shaking at the pain blossoming across his stomach, little tugging veins of discomfort rearing their heads and nudging at his senses. His free hand lifted shakily, fingers weakly wrapping around the blade. He wasn't sure why, he knew he couldn't pull it out, he knew he couldn't free himself. But his mind wouldn't comprehend that fully, the shock was still too prominent.

All the close shaves, the near misses, the almost hits, the non-fatal wounds, the cuts and bruises and strikes against his ego. They hadn't been like this. He could smell the stench of seriousness seeping from his skin, his body already knew that this injury was severe. One wrong move, one indelicate action and his life could be over.

He could hear Rukia and Renji screaming in the background, yelling out to him. He could hear the pain in his sister's voice, her agony at seeing him in such a pathetic state. It sounded like Renji was holding her back. Thank goodness.

“Now,” Shiro's voice broke through his concern like ice, “Do I make an example of ya... Or do I obliterate ya from existence? Personally... I wanna hear ya scream...”

Lifting his gaze jerkily, he scowled at the albino, “Do your worst. You will get... No screams from me.”

He finally understood what Renji had meant all those months ago when he'd said he was 'glad he was an Inuzuri Dog'. It was the stubbornness, the classical Inuzuri trait of being so hard-headed one could overcome any obstacle.

He understood now, he was exactly the same. He was glad he was a Kuchiki, his ego inflated enough to buffer the pain and potential agony one could inflict upon his body. Maybe he was delirious but he almost smiled. He had so much more in common with his Fukutaichou than he'd realised.

The white Hollow spat at his feet, “An example it is then.”

Byakuya wasn't prepared for the discomfort that came from having the sword torn free, his body convulsing awkwardly as he sank to his knees, hand clasped over his middle in a foolish attempt to stem the flow of blood. He lifted his head, face deformed by anger as he persisted in showing every ounce of defiance he was feeling.

“Scatter, Senbon-” He yelped as his Zanpakutō was slapped from his hands, sliding uselessly across the floor.

“Tut, tut.” The Hollow smirked, crouching slowly and pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger, “I think I know ya a little better than ya think. No petals are gonna help ya this time. I'm gonna end ya, slowly; painfully and in every way I can think of. I'm gonna enjoy it.”

Hissing venomously, the noble refused to tremble. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, “Hadō 4: Byak-” A harsh slap to the face cut him off before he could finish, he bit his tongue from the impact, tasting the tang of metal flood his mouth.

“Ya really don't get it, do ya?” Shiro snorted as he crouched down and pinched the nobleman's chin between his fingers, “I know ya. I know all of yer attacks, all of yer tactics... Ya can't touch me.”

“You bastard.” He spat.

“I can't disagree.” Releasing his chin, the Hollow rose to his feet, “I'm gonna make ya suffer... Make ya wish ya had killed Ichigo when ya had the chance...”

Feral grin spreading slowly, the Cero Espada suddenly turned and lunged towards Rukia, sword raised high. Her death would torture Byakuya, it would be punishment enough to break him mentally before finally ending him.

Eyes widening in realisation, the nobleman lurched to his feet, adrenaline suddenly gushing through him like liquid fire, igniting his nerves and muscles and driving him forward, driving him faster and harder than ever before as he flung himself between his precious sister and the white Hollow who threatened her life.

“NII-SAMA NO!”

Despite wanting to die facing Shiro head on, instinct overrode his pride and Byakuya's eyes screwed shut in the wait for inevitable pain and death. He heard a scream of his name tear from his sister's lips again, and the lips of his second in command. He regretted that there was so much he still wanted to say to them both, so much he wanted to offer them.

The sound of metal clanging was surprising and confusing, unexpected even.

Eyes fluttering open, Byakuya's voice was lost in the sudden constriction of his throat as he watched long fluttering green hair waving in front of his face. Nelliel.

“Shiro stop! Please!” She cried out, sword shaking under the weight of his attack, her feet slipping slightly against the floor, “This isn't right! Surely you see that! This is mindless violence! It's cruel!”

“N-Nelliel...” Shiro's voice had never sounded more strained than it did in that moment, his teeth clenched as he recoiled, staggering back several steps, “What are ya doin'? Why... Why are you defendin' them? It ain't... It ain't mindless violence... They're traitors...”

“Then we deal with them as we deal with all traitors. You don't have to kill them to prove a point!” The green haired Espada was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks, “You know I would follow you anywhere! But I can't let you do this! It will haunt you!”

Byakuya could see the albino over Nelliel's shoulder, his mood seemed to be flitting between enraged and agonised faster than he could draw breath. The way his reiatsu seemed to fluctuate only added to the tension.

The nobleman could feel a chill in his fingertips, growing dizzy as he lifted a hand to his stomach and held the long wound, he could feel the moist slickness of blood. There was a lot of it. Enough to make even him feel faint. He wasn't sure he would have the strength to continue fighting if Nelliel didn't defuse the situation.

“Nelliel...” Shiro said softly, “Step aside... Please...”

“No. I can't do that. I can't. Please understand.” She replied shakily.

“I do understand.”

The change was so fast that Byakuya missed it, Shiro grabbed Nelliel by the arm and he flung her aside hard enough that she dropped her Zanpakutō with a clatter, and released a yelp as she hit the floor, sliding across it just enough that she was out of his way. Golden eyes narrowed, Shiro lifted Zangetsu again, smirking as he met the nobleman's gaze.

“Sayōnara, Kuchiki Taichou.”

For the second time that day Byakuya's eyes flinched shut as a reflex as he watched the sword come down towards him. Senbonzakura was on the other side of the laboratory, even if he released his Shikai it wouldn't make it before his head was rolling. This was really it. This was the end.

Blood splashed his face. It was warm, wet and splattered in an ungodly pattern across his pale skin. Byakuya gulped, only daring to open his eyes when he heard a quiet groan of pain.

Shiro's eyes were wide, brow twitching as a pained grimace stretched across his face. His lips and chin were stained with crimson. The albino seemed to freeze as Zangetsu tumbled from his grasp. There was a thick black horn protruding from the albino's gut, one of the very horns which usually adorned his Hollow mask when he summoned it. Byakuya recognised it's jagged shape and inky darkness.

There was a hand. A subtly tanned hand grasping the horn, holding it in place even as Shiro tried desperately to tear it free. It wasn't moving. The Cero Espada let out a frustrated cry, golden eyes flicking up to meet Byakuya's startled ones.

“Fuck ya... Fuck all of ya...” He hissed.

Another hand rose up from behind the albino, pushing him aside with a forceful shove as the horn was ripped free. Shiro hit the ground with a gargled moan but Byakuya wasn't watching him anymore. Byakuya's eyes were fixed on the tall slender form that had been hidden by Shiro's body.

A black shihakusho, concealed by a sleeveless black coat that seemed to flutter in an unseen breeze. Strong, but lean arms were smudged by proud looking markings. Elegant swirls that seemed so very familiar, and yet in a far greater number than he remembered. Steel eyes rose in disbelief, his lips pursing tightly as he found himself staring at a jet black Hollow mask, decorating with two white stripes running like tears. The mask was damaged, one horn seemed to have been torn off. The very horn clasped between long fingers perhaps.

Byakuya heard his own choked sob before he realised he'd made it. His heart was thundering so hard he thought it would burst. But he didn't care. His eyes were stinging with tears he knew he shouldn't shed. But he didn't care.

The mask was torn free with a single fluid motion and thrown to the floor, revealing the face he'd begun to believe he would never see again. Warm chestnut eyes, high cheekbones, and waist length orange hair. Was there really any doubt?

“Fuck me, you know how to make a mess.”

No, there was no doubt at all. That was Ichigo's voice. But it sounded calmer, more mature compared to the last time he had heard it. By the Soul King, it had been so long since he'd heard it. Byakuya felt himself shaking as he finally allowed himself to truly believe what he was seeing.

“Ichigo?” He breathed.

Silent, a foot slammed into Shiro's gut and threw him like he was a weightless ragdoll, his body crashing unceremoniously through the mess of a laboratory. It was only then that Ichigo released a long breath, pointing in Aizen's direction, “Stay right there. I'll deal with you shortly.”

“Ichigo!” Rukia's voice was shrill, muffled by what sounded like a monsoon of tears, “Is... Is it really you?!”

Byakuya felt his heart skip a beat as Ichigo turned to face them, those fiery chestnut eyes were like a home away from home. They had strength and willpower burning in their depths, and he felt himself being put at ease. Like everything would be fine.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long.” Ichigo said softly, his smile was regretful, “I... Lost myself. But I am back now. And I give you my word... I will never leave you again.”

“I-Idiot...” The younger Kuchiki sniffled at his words, “You're an idiot!”

“You won't hear any arguments from me, Rukia.” He chuckled before letting out a breath, “Orihime... Please use your Sōten Kisshun to heal Byakuya's wounds... And then erect a barrier. It's time I finish what I started.”

“O-Of course... Kurosaki-kun...” The woman bumbled her words, staring at him in disbelief before her hands rose to her hairpins.

Byakuya tried to protest as he was forced to sit down, his eyes never leaving Ichigo's face through fear that he might vanish again. He had so many questions, bubbling on the surface of his tongue but he couldn't find his voice to ask any of them. Not a single one.

How had Ichigo escaped? Why had it taken so long after Shiro had returned from the Inner World? Why did he look and sound so confident, confident enough to order Sōsuke Aizen not to move?

Almost as if feeling his gaze, chestnut eyes found steel ones and Byakuya was sure that his heart had skipped another beat as he was offered a small smile. It was nervous, uncertain... Shy in some regards. But it was warm, happy. Understanding... Hopeful... He couldn't help but return that smile with one of his own, relaxing beneath Orihime's healing barrier. Ichigo was back. Everything else could wait, at least a little bit longer.

Ichigo, in an instant, took notice of Shiro stumbling towards them. The albino was bruised and bloodied, and it seemed that all of his wounds had healed with the exception of the one caused by his own mask's horn. The rage seeping out of the Hollow was palpable and tangent.

“Surrender now, Shiro, agree to surrender control and I won't hurt you any further.” Ichigo's voice was solid, immovable, his surety was inspiring.

“Ya shouldn't have come back... I warned ya... This is my life now! My body! Yer just a ghost... A spectre that won't let go! What are ya gonna do... Ya don't even have a sword!” The albino snarled.

“You of all people should know by now... I don't need a sword to hurt you.” The sigh that came from the sunrise haired Shinigami was as deep as it was frustrated.


	65. Stand Up, Be Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Ichigo's clash for supremacy reaches its climax amidst the broken wreck of the laboratory. Only one of them can be King.

“You of all people should know by now... I don't need a sword to hurt you.” Ichigo's sigh was deep as he cracked his knuckles, fists clenched tightly.

“How did ya get out?” Shiro snarled, his tone borderline venomous.

“You seem to forget, it is _my_ Inner World.” Came the smooth reply.

“I'll send ya back there before this is over!” The white Hollow roared.

“No.” Ichigo said simply, “I'm afraid the only one of us going back there is you. And once you are there, you will remain there until I believe I can trust you again.”

Enraged, Shiro summoned his white Zangetsu back to his hand and shot forwards, darting left and right, trying to lose Ichigo's focus as he swung his blade around, aiming straight for the strawberry's neck. He would decapitate him and finish the job Ulquiorra had started. The Cero Espada gasped as his target vanished from his line of sight, eyes widening at the sudden explosion of pain across his back. His head snapping around Shiro saw the briefest flicker of orange before an elbow smashed into his face and threw him to the ground.

Flexing his fist experimentally, Ichigo raised an eyebrow, “Your Hierro is harder out here than it was in there. I'll have to account for that next time.”

“W-What the fuck did ya do?” The Cero breathed, scrambling back up onto his feet as he briefly looked at Aizen, the anxiety that the brunet would once again desire Ichigo instead of him only increasing his anger.

“I told you... I accepted myself. Who I am. What I am. What I've done.”

“This goes beyond that! What did ya do?!” Shiro swung at him again, screeching as Ichigo stepped just out of range again.

Ichigo swerved to the side as he watched the bleached sword head towards him again, his eyes followed the movement, ducking as it arced towards him, “Awfully paranoid aren't you? You'd be surprised how liberating it is to stop being afraid of yourself.”

“I don't believe you! You did something! You... You and Zangetsu... Ya cooked something up inside yer head. Conspirin' against me, trying to take away what always should have been mine!”

“It was never yours.” His hand snatched out, fingers wrapping around his Hollow's blade, “My body was never yours. Control was never yours. All that you have, you stole. You clawed at it, coveted it. Waiting for a time when I'd give you the rest willing, when I had no choice.”

Flipping nimbly, the strawberry haired Shinigami planted his foot in the Hollow's gut, smashing him into a pile of rubble before arching forwards, slamming his elbow into the albino's breastbone so hard he heard a definitive crunch and a howl of pain.

Shiro howled, flying to his feet, charging at his polychromatic counterpart, sword outstretched, saliva spraying from between clenched teeth as murder wrote itself across his expression. The tip of Zangetsu struck Ichigo in the shoulder, but came to an abrupt stop. A slow and steady crack crept along the thickness of the sword like spider webs, and with a grating crunch the blade snapped in half.

Golden eyes widened in disbelief as he staggered back, looking at the broken sword in his hands, “I... I don't understand...”

Lifting a hand, Ichigo stretched his fingers open, clenching them tightly again almost immediately, “All these years I wasn't using Zangetsu properly. I had the sword I forged after my graduation. I had the metal, the hilt, the power. But there was no Soul. Not really. I've been fighting with an empty blade. Do you understand?”

“No. No I don't fuckin' understand!”

“You were in the way.” He said simply, “Zangetsu was so busy trying to contain you, trying to stop you causing too much damage... And I was so devoid of anything and everything that I never stopped to really talk to him. I didn't care about him. I didn't want to learn about him. I never asked him what he wanted. I never asked him what his purpose was.”

“So ya what? Had a nice little chat and realised ya got a shit ton in common?” He spat, snorting, “Pathetic.”

“Shiro.” Ichigo's voice cut through him like steel, “I made a vow to protect my mother no matter what the cost. I made a vow to protect my sisters too. I failed them. But I won't fail my friends. And while I protect them... Zangetsu will protect me. That is the bond we share.”

The sunrise haired Shinigami took the broken white blade from Shiro's grasp and crushed it between his hands with ease. The albino released a strangled sound and took a step backwards, glaring in disbelief.

“That is why you couldn't cut me. You can't cut me with my own sword.”

Shiro let out a low growl, “Ya failed 'em when ya went to sleep for two months.”

The strawberry held a hand out, “I will make you listen Shiro, even if I have to destroy everything you hold dear first.” A swirling twist of red energy began to flicker into life in his palm, the Cero growing larger by the second.

Shaking his head, the Cero Espada took a sudden stepped back, “No. Don't ya dare. Ya can't use Cero! Ya can't control yer reiatsu enough to do that!”

“That was true once... But not anymore.”

Ichigo lunged forwards finally on the offensive, his free hand threaded itself in the front of the Hollow's shihakusho before Shiro could even flinch. The strawberry haired male thrust his other hand forwards, letting out a simple and resolute yell as he forced the globe of tempestuous light into Shiro's face mercilessly.

Leaping backwards as the Cero detonated, Ichigo watched as a powerfully destructive arc of crimson shot up and blasted the remaining ceiling outwards. Ichigo skidded slightly across the tiled floor, a single bead of sweat rolling down his cheek as he pushed himself into a standing position.

He shook his hand, noticing the faint scorch marks on his skin, “Damn.”

Sensing movement from the dust and smoke, he turned his gaze forwards again just in time to see Shiro totter out of the devastation. The Hollow's chest was heaving for breath, his face was badly burnt and bloodied, wounds no longer healing like they should have been. His golden eyes were wide, disbelieving as he staggered and collapsed onto his hands and knees, shaking.

Ichigo stalked forwards, another Cero already swirling in his palm. He had to end things. He would force Shiro into submission. He had no other choice.

The screech of metal jolted the strawberry and he darted backwards, eyes flicking to the face of his attacker. It was Tōsen. Aizen was getting impatient, there was no other explanation for it. The strawberry ducked another attack and swept his hand around, thrusting the Cero into the black man's chest ruthlessly. He heard him scream out in pain and pushed harder, releasing a roar as the dark red energy exploded and threw the former Taichou back. He heard him collide with several of the counters and worktops with a wheezy moan of pain.

Scowling, he shook his hand. Small blisters were angry in his palm from the heat of the second Cero, he bit his tongue as he began preparing a third but his concentration was lost when a hard body collided with him and threw him to the floor. Grunting and rolling, Ichigo found himself wrestling with Shiro. The Espada had donned his black and white mask, now fully repaired with both horns in place.

Ichigo forced them to roll, pinning his Hollow down with all his might, “Listen to me! Just listen for one minute!”

“Why? So ya can drip poison in my ears and make me turn?”

“No... I want you to listen to you can make your own mind up!” He sucked in a breath, “What I said in my Inner World was true, I won't kill you. I will always accept you! Even after everything you've done... Everything you still want to do... I accept you Shiro! You are a part of me! And I am a part of you! I don't want us to be enemies! I want us to work together... I want us to be better.”

“Well I don't accept ya! I won't serve a King that's weaker than me!” The albino spat.

“I'm not weaker than you. Not anymore. We share everything that makes us strong. One and the same. Two sides of the same coin.” Ichigo searched the depths of the furious golden eyes beneath him, “Look at Nelliel. LOOK AT HER!”

Shiro's teeth clenched behind his mask, but he allowed his gaze to move to the green haired woman, she was sat against the wall, nursing her arm from where he'd thrown her aside. She was smiling at him, it was a small smile, sad almost. But her eyes held no hatred towards him, there was only the same adoration that there had always been.

“When you found her on the Sands... You wanted to kill her, because she felt strong.” The strawberry said quietly, “But you couldn't do it. She reminded you of Karin and Yuzu, I know... I saw it...”

“What of it?” He snapped moodily.

“What will you do if you're ordered to kill her?” Ichigo tilted his head, “Like you were ordered to kill Karin and Yuzu.”

“That would never happen. He knows what she means to me.”

“And he knew what the twins meant to me!” His teeth clenched painfully, “You think he loves you? He only loves power. Whether its you or me in control the result is the same. He just wants what we can give him. It's never been about anything more than that!”

“Yer wrong!”

“I'm not! Do you really believe for even a second that he didn't know the Espada were planning something? He has eyes all over the palace, you've said that yourself!”

Shiro paused, staring up at Ichigo for a long moment. He... He'd never thought of that. He knew already that Aizen had at least one camera in Grimmjow's room, so why wouldn't he have done something about the Espada's plot? Surely... He would have seen... Would have heard... He must have known... So why didn't he act? Why did he let it get so far? Was it... A test?

“It's only ever been about control Shiro... He said himself he'd never planned for you to be in control... He had to change every aspect of his plans to account for you. But if the Espada had a plan to bring me back... That would fix everything right? He didn't have to get involved... He didn't have to make an enemy of you. He could sit back and let them sort everything out for him!”

“No... That's not... He said he'd accepted me...” The albino faltered, his gut churning uncomfortably, “No... No I don't believe ya! Ya would say anythin' to make me betray him!”

“Yes... I would. I would say absolutely anything to make you realise the truth. It's not about betrayal, not anymore. It's about making you see... He's using you. Just like he used me. Like he used Hinamori... And Rukia...” He loosened his grasp on the Cero Espada, relieved when he wasn't struck or stabbed immediately, “I don't want to do this to you! I know what he means to you! But I don't want to see you end up as a puppet!”

“Why? Why are ya so determined to protect me? After everythin' I've done... I don't understand...”

Ichigo offered him a small smile, “Because I've been there too... Remember? I know how hard it is to make that break... To realise the truth... To realise what really matters. But more importantly, whether we want it or not you're a part of me. I want to protect you because you've protected me for so long, and I never really thanked you for it. I figure... It's my turn now.”

“I... I... I didn't want to... Hurt Karin and Yuzu...” Shiro said quietly, his mask slowly disintegrating to reveal an agonised expression, “I didn't have a choice... I couldn't say no...”

“I know, and I don't blame you anymore. I know it wasn't your fault, you did what you were ordered to. But you have that choice now. You can say no. You're strong enough!” The strawberry swallowed, “Don't wait until it's too late... Don't wait until you're being ordered to kill someone you care about. Don't wait until it's Nelliel's head on the block.”

“Why didn't ya say all of this sooner?” He sat up slowly, glaring at him.

“It is kinda hard to make you listen, you're a bit hard-headed you know?”

“I can't imagine who I got that from.” The albino huffed, his shoulders slumping, “Ya mean it? Ya really think... He's been lyin' to me? Ya really think its about control?”

“I give you my word... I wouldn't lie to you about this. Or about anything else. But it's always been about power, hasn't it? About controlling what he wanted? About us...”

“Fuck...” Shiro let out a low groan, holding his head in his hands, “I don't wanna believe it... I really don't wanna... It hurts...”

“I know and I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.” Ichigo reached out and touched his cheek softly, “It was painful for me too... When I first realised the truth.”

“What do I do now? I thought I'd made a life... I thought I'd found what I wanted... I don't know what to do... Where to go... I'm... Lost...” The Hollow's voice cracked, “I've done so much shit... I've fucked up so bad how can ya want me back... How could ya ever trust me again?”

“Because I forgive you.”

Shiro met his gaze suddenly, surprised. The albino seemed to suck in a deep breath, as if making a decision as he got to his feet and looked directly at Aizen.

“Tell me straight! Is he right? Were ya... Were ya just... Usin' me? Lyin' to me? I want the truth!”

Aizen, despite his calm and collected appearance, took a solid minute to respond, simply staring at the pale Hollow before him. The time seemed to stretch for eternity, and for a fleeting moment there appeared to be a crease between his brows, but it was gone in a split second, a flash, and control was restored.

“That... Would depend entirely on your perspective really,” the brunet raised an eyebrow, “The Espada's cold shoulder had you feeling isolated, alone, unwanted. It was... Important to ensure you felt like you belonged here.”

Shiro let out a choked sound, if possible he seemed to pale further, “So it... It was lies... All of it?!”

“It... Was necessary to play my part, to allow Ichigo the time he needed to heal and recover his strength and will to fight. You had to believe you were wanted, and that you were what I wanted you to be.”

“You _bastard_.” Ichigo stood up and scowled, “You really were using him. Like you use everyone! You didn't even know if I was coming back!”

“Of course you were coming back.” The admonishment was gentle as Aizen offered a smile, “How could you not? With your friends still imprisoned here, your... Fiancé still imprisoned here. I was aware that my Espada had begun conspiring with Byakuya Kuchiki, trying to work out a way to force you back into control. I allowed it. Watched their progress.”

Shiro was quaking, whether it was violent or crumbling was uncertain, “I... Gave you... Everythin' I had... Absolutely... Everythin' and... It meant... Nothing...”

The brunet paused, eyes flicking back to golden ones, there was that long stagnant pause again, hesitation was foreign in Aizen's vocabulary, “I wouldn't say it meant nothing. After all, you were happy. You said as much yourself. And we were both able to enjoy the time we spent together.”

The albino turned slowly, shamefully, his eyes wide and horrified, looking at Nelliel, at the Espada, at Byakuya, “I-I...” His silvery tones were choked, strangled, forced, “I'm... So sorry... For everythin'... I... I will put this right!”

Ichigo flinched as he felt the slightly cooler temperature of Shiro's hand grabbing his own, alabaster and honey mixing in interlocking fingers. Pained, tragic golden eyes fixed onto chestnut ones, brimming with unshed tears, and the albino released a single suffocated sob as he lowered himself onto one knee and bowed his head.

“Shiro... What are you doing?” He asked, concerned about the mental frailty of his Hollow.

His reptilian tones were almost flat, his voice was almost Human, his shoulders were shaking, he was crying, “What I should have done a long time ago... My King.”

The strawberry's eyes widened slightly and he gripped Shiro's hand tightly, watching as the albino began to fade from view, disappearing like a hazy mist that had never been there to start with. And then he felt it. His body bending upon impact, his expression one of shock as felt the burning torrent of madness, mania and anger as soon as it hit his Inner World. Threatening to set everything alight, to burn everything down to the ground.

But there was Tensa Zangetsu. A balm. A soothing ointment to the Hollow's insanity. Waiting with little more than acceptance.

He could see them, stood side by side. Things were tense, but acceptance was there. He heard a scream, he didn't realise it was his own. His reiatsu coiling around his body in a violent current of rippling waves, lashing out threateningly at Tōsen. At Aizen. Even smacking against Orihime's barrier.

He could feel the change. He could see black film creeping across his vision, colouring the world with vibrant hues of gold. The searing sensation of a burn on the side of his neck, his teeth gnashing at the pain as his reiatsu rose. He knew what it was. The intricate pattern of a Gothic Zero, marking him as Hollow. Marking him as Espada. Marking him as Cero.

Lurching forwards, hands hitting the floor as he gagged, feeling some of his hair tug backwards above his ear as Byakuya's kenseikan materialised at his temple where it belonged. It was no longer bone, but he still felt dregs of Shiro's reiatsu within it.

In a second his vision snapped clear, black and gold vanishing submissively as the warmth of chestnut returned against a backdrop of white sclera.

Somehow he felt stronger than when Shiro had last been the submissive Soul, was it because it had been willing this time? Was it because they had come to an agreement? He felt as strong as he had after defeating Aaroniero, with the combined strength of Shiro's status as Cero Espada bolstering his reiatsu higher.

As he rose to his feet, he felt the sudden cold snap of black chains winding up his arm, his fingers clenching around the fitted hilt of his black katana. Tensa Zangetsu. His Bankai. He felt restored, finally having the sword back in his grasp.

“ _Welcome back.”_ The sunrise haired Shinigami said inwardly, smiling faintly to himself when he saw Shiro bow his head in thanks, _“Look after each other... You've both been through a lot.”_

“At long last, you have subjugated your Hollow. I must say, its about time.” Aizen's voice cut through his momentary joy.

Ichigo's smile dropped immediately as his gaze flicked to the brunet, “I guess so.”

Watching as Aizen finally moved, taking elegant and unconcerned steps towards him, he moved as well. Darting around the room until he put himself between Aizen and the barrier protecting his friends, glad to see that Nelliel was now concealed behind the orange shield too.

“Why do you run from me?” The brunet asked, “You have finally become something akin to what I wanted you to, you are finally ready to take your place at my side. Here in Las Noches. You _belong_ here.”

Ichigo's back straightened, his expression setting firmly as his lips thinned into a displeased line, “Maybe that was true once. Maybe I did belong here, belong with you. But not now. I wanted somewhere I could be myself, somewhere I could live without fear of killing people with my power. The truth is that all I ever needed was to believe in myself. To accept who I am. What I am.”

“And what are you?” Aizen's expression hadn't changed, and he continued to close the gap between them.

“Strong. Stupidly strong.” He felt himself lifting Zangetsu between them, “But I can control it now. I don't need you. I never needed you.”

“You will _always_ need me.”

“I don't know what's more pathetic,” Ichigo clenched his teeth, “The fact that I used to believe that, or the fact that you still do.”

Seemingly ignoring the jibe, Aizen raised a hand, sweeping the air and collecting dense fragments of black and red reiatsu on his fingertips, “This is your reiatsu now? It's changed. Become heavier, thicker. Stronger. How splendid. Everything has gone almost exactly as I wanted.”

“You don't expect me to believe you planned this.”

“You know that my goal has always been for you to become what you were born to be. Powerful, beautiful, my strongest warrior, my perfect lover,” the brunet allowed the tendrils of reiatsu to break free, watching as they seeped away into the air around them, “I knew that bringing you to Hueco Mundo would re-awaken Shiro's need for domination over your soul, and that each subsequent battle would bring him closer to the surface, forcing you to the point of having to fight to remain in control.”

Bristling, Ichigo's fingers clenched the hilt of his sword until his knuckles paled, “And did you plan for Ulquiorra?”

“No.” Aizen admitted reluctantly, “I must confess his... Bitterness towards you was an oversight. He very nearly ruined everything.”

“Because it meant Shiro had to take control, otherwise we would both have died. You had to change your entire strategy to account for him taking over. You never expected that I'd surrender willingly.” Ichigo shook his head slowly, “He loves you... Even now, while it hurts and he realises that he barely meant anything to you... He would have willingly served you till the very end.”

“And for his service... I am truly grateful. Though, I would correct you on one notion. He meant more to me than either of you realise. However, I work with what I am given and...” There was a smugness in his voice now, “It was a simple case of knowing that Byakuya Kuchiki would never rest until he either drew you back out, or killed your Hollow.”

“Of course, because he keeps his word. No matter how hard that might be for him to do. At the very least, you were both right. I had lost myself for a while, allowed shame to chain me down. But I'd never give up while I've got so much left to fight for. And my precious friends... Are worth fighting for.”

“You left us for twenty six years, Kurosaki-kun. You don't get to disappear again.” The sound of Orihime's voice was accompanied by the shattering of her barrier as she came to stand at his side, smiling up at him, “We'll never give up on you.”

“We are your friends, Ichigo,” Rukia approached him as well, looking up at him affectionately, “You've struggled by yourself for long enough.”

“You had us worried for a while.” Renji's hand clapped firmly on his shoulder as Zabimaru was unsheathed, “But we never lost hope.”

“You never have to fight alone, you simply need to reach out to your friends... And we will answer.” Byakuya retrieved Senbonzakura from where the blade had been discarded, the majority of his wounds had been healed by Orihime, though he still looked pale.

Ishida and Chad stepped up as well. Bows were summoned. Demonic arms were lifted. And Ichigo felt heat rising in his chest. Despite everything, they were still willing to stand beside him. He couldn't have asked for more.

“We are leaving, Aizen.” Ichigo lifted Zangetsu again, eyes narrowed as he glared at the man.

“Do you think that you have what it takes to break out of Las Noches... Just because of some warm fuzzy feelings being shared between you and your _friends_?” The brunet released a rare sigh, “Disappointing.”

Ichigo tensed as he heard the ring of steel, the sight of Aizen drawing Kyoka Suigetsu from the sheath at his side. The look in those eyes made a shiver run down the strawberry's spine and he was certain he was about to lose the privilege of being one of the few people never to have seen Aizen's Shikai.

The strawberry flinched at the sudden crackle of Sonido from behind him and he watched in disbelief as Barragan appeared in front of Aizen, sword drawn, clashing with him violently.

“What are you doing?!” He yelled, taking a step forward only for feel a painfully hard grasp on his shoulder yanking him back, his gaze flicked up to the sight of blue hair, “Grimmjow... What are you-”

The Sexta Espada stared down at him for a long moment, his usual grin was gone and there was a seriousness in his gaze that seemed more violent than his destructive personality, “The right thing. Get out of here. All of you!”

“Grimmjow no! Stop! He'll kill you!” Byakuya snatched a hand out as he watched the blue haired Arrancar draw his sword.

“With all due respect... He's gonna kill us anyway.” Grimmjow offered the nobleman a smile, “It's be a pleasure Byakuya Kuchiki, but now you gotta go. Grind, Pantera!”

Ichigo stared as Grimmjow pounced forwards, blocking Gin from attacking Barragan from behind with the blades on his arms.

“Starrk will get you to the Sands, beyond that... Someone is coming for you in a Garganta. Make sure you do not miss their arrival.” Harribel cupped the strawberry's cheek for a moment before drawing her blade from the sheath on her back, “Destroy, Tiburōn!”

“No...” He gasped out, he could already see blood splattering Grimmjow and Barragan's white uniforms.

“Do as she says!” Nnoitra barged past him, almost knocking him over as he swung his scythe around, “Pray, Santa Teresa!”

“Suppress, Brujería!”

He watched as Nnoitra and Zommari joined the onslaught, he could barely see Aizen, Gin or Tōsen amidst the throng of Espada causing as much havoc as they possibly could. Dust was beginning to fall from above, the weight of the Tres and Segunda's reiatsu was beginning to toll on the palace.

“Take care of Shiro.” Nelliel smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek, “He means a lot to me. Declare, Gamuza!”

Ichigo's instinct was to grab her and stop her, but a much stronger grip caught his arm and he found himself looking up at Starrk, “I can't leave them...”

“Listen to me, the only priority right now is to get you out of Hueco Mundo. Do you understand me?” The Primera grumbled.

“He'll kill you all!” He cursed, ducking as Zommari went flying overhead and crashed through a wall.

“We knew the risks when we agreed to help Byakuya.” Szayel looked down at him with folded arms, “I just hope you were worth the effort and the risks it took to bring you back.”

“Why are you going this far?” He asked, wincing when he heard a cry of pain from somewhere within the laboratory.

Szayel seemed to huff, as if calculating whether or not he had time to explain properly, cool fingers brushed long strands of orange hair aside before tugging at the collar of his shihakusho, “Because, even amidst the tattoos of your Clan, that zero will never fade. Shiro is a part of you, as is his power and position. _You_ are our Cero Espada, Ichigo Kurosaki and that is why... We will make sure you get away from here. Byakuya... Made us realise that we have a say in how we live, and _you_ made us see that there is more to strength than just killing people. Strength can be about saving them too.”

Ichigo swallowed. He didn't need a mirror to see the zero on his neck, it weighed heavily against his skin, woven into the whorls and swirls of blackness that covered the side of his neck. He could feel Shiro's fondness for the scientist, he could tell it had never been expressed properly.

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

The Octavo offered what was probably one of his more genuine smiles before he too drew his sword, “Starrk... Make sure they get out.”

“You don't need to tell me that.” The Primera muttered as he grabbed Lilynette's hand in his own, looking down at Ichigo, “Come.”

Ichigo hesitated for only a moment longer, hearing Szayel release his Resurrecciōn form and join the fray, he grabbed Byakuya's hand in his own, dragging him towards the exit to the laboratory. They moved close together, Sonido, Shunpo and Hirenkyaku shooting them through the hallways. Ichigo was pleased to have Starrk with them, navigating their surroundings with ease. The sounds and feelings of the battle going on behind them rippled through the entire palace, shaking the walls and the floors. Off shoots of reiatsu reached them, allowing them to feel the violence, the desperation, the determination.

They burst out, Ichigo sucked in a deep gasp of air as he felt the coolness of the Hueco Mundo sands reach his lungs, his body quivering at the sudden feeling of freedom that enveloped him at the sight of the darkened sky. But there was no time to enjoy the moment as Starrk ushered them on.

Running blind, the group ran further and further away from the palace, but even still they could feel the clashing reiatsu they were leaving behind. Ichigo was certain he recognised their destination, it looked like the very same place they had dropped out onto just two months previously.

They were all panting when they finally came to a stop, Starrk looked around urgently, as if assessing their location. Ichigo finally released Byakuya's hand long enough to hold his gut as he recovered from their sprint. Despite his increased power, he felt weary after moving so quickly so soon.

“I think it would be an understatement to say I am very disappointed.” Aizen's voice rang around them without warning, without the sound of approach.

Ichigo spun on the spot, staring at the brunet with wide eyes. He was stalking towards them, sword in hand dripping blood all over the sand. His white uniform had several tears in the fabric, but he seemed unharmed. None of the blood caking his clothes was his own.

“Shit.” He lifted Zangetsu immediately, pushing Byakuya behind his body.

“Bakudō 9: Hōrin!” Rukia cast her hands out abruptly, entangling Aizen in the tendrils of yellow energy, “Bakudō 4: Hainawa!” She added to the binds, thrusting thick ropes around the brunet as her hands remained clasped together.

“Bakudō 61: Rikujōkōrō.” Byakuya followed suit, encasing the former Division Five Taichou with the six yellow beams of light, immobilising him, at least temporarily, “Bakudō 73: Tozanshō!”

Ichigo watched as his fiancé sealed Aizen inside the blue pyramid, Aizen seemed amused more than annoyed, perhaps aware that such binds couldn't hold him for long. Gin appeared at that moment, bloodied and bruised, and apparently amused by the sight of the Kidō restraints.

“Well... This is all very amusin'.” The silver haired fox chuckled, “Ya alright in there, Aizen Taichou?”

“Perfectly.” Aizen already appeared to be snapping the bonds around him.

“Did ya think Kidō would be enough to restrain him?” Gin snorted, eyes opening just a little as he appraised the group.

“Kick about, Los Lobos!” Starrk's deep baritone came from behind and the force of his reiatsu as he and Lilynette merged was far beyond what Ichigo had come to expect.

The sight of the Primera stalking forwards, grey fur coat and chaps, bone-like eye patch, dual guns in hand was something of a marvel. He knew from Shiro's feelings that Coyote Starrk wasn't a man to fight unless he had no other choice. The fact he was willing to use his Resurrecciōn form at a time like this made Ichigo's heart swell with pride.

Aizen broke free from his prison, shattering it with ease before shaking the fragments of Kidō glass from his clothes, he began walking towards Ichigo and his friends again, apparently unconcerned by Starrk's change.

The Primera shot forwards with a burst of Sonido crackling around him, at the same time Gin passed him in a snap of Shunpo, grabbing Ichigo by the collar of his shihakusho. The strawberry flinched and immediately lifted Zangetsu to force the man back, but froze as he saw the look on his face.

“Listen to me, Ichi-Berry, I don't have long to tell ya this,” Gin's eyes were wide open now, serious as could be, “Aizen Taichou isn't feared because he can use the power of Kyoka Suigetsu. Yes Kyoka Suigetsu's power is terrifyin'. But that alone wouldn't be enough to subdue those who would rather die than obey... There was only one reason why all those powerful Espada were able to function as a group, despite their personal motives and differences. Because he's _strong_. Aizen Taichou's abilities are far beyond anyone else's.”

“I know that.” He hissed.

“Do ya? Do ya really know? Look at him, all those Espada and there ain't a mark on him. His clothes yeah, but his skin? None of 'em were able to cut him.” Gin let out a breath, “You're gonna take precautions against his Kyoka Suigetsu? Your plans ain't good enough. You're going to take precautions against everythin' else? Your plans still aren't good enough. Even if you gather your minds, and take precautions against unfortunate events like the sky fallin', or the earth splittin', Aizen Taichou's abilities are far beyond your plans.”

Ichigo swallowed. He knew that. He'd always known it. Through all the years of training under the man, of feeling his reiatsu increase time and time again, seemingly without end. He knew Aizen was vastly stronger than any Shinigami he had ever met, and that he would ever meet again, “Why are you telling me this?”

The silver haired fox smiled faintly, “Because... Aizen Taichou's been fascinated with ya since ya were a kid. Ya have somethin' no one else has. Somethin' even Aizen Taichou lacks.”

“What?”

“Limitless potential.” He breathed, “Ya can keep growing. Keep changing. Keep evolving. Yer the only one who can stop him, Ichi-Berry. The only one with the potential to become strong enough to stand toe to toe with him. Go... Evolve... Get stronger... And when the time is right...”

Ichigo turned as he heard several startled cries, his eyes widening as he saw several small Garganta tear open, unseen arms reaching out to snatch people back into the darkness before they sealed shut again. Rukia, Renji, Chad and Orihime were gone first. Then Ishida, and Byakuya.

“Ichigo.”

The strawberry looked up at Gin, “What?”

“Tell Rangiku... I'm sorry.”

He had a thousand questions to ask, but not time to ask them. He felt a strong pair of arms wrap around him from behind and as he was yanked backwards into the final Garganta he watched as Gin turned on the spot and aimed Shinsō towards Starrk and Aizen.


	66. Unlikely Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Garganta from Hueco Mundo snaps shut, and with it Ichigo can finally drop his guard, but with his return from the Hollow World comes an entirely new path, with new allies to earn the trust of.

Ichigo released a sharp gasp as his back hit the floor, instantly leaping to his feet as he drew Zangetsu up defensively and took in his surroundings. Sandy, dusty rock faces, large boulders and a false sky that extended further than his eyes could see. This was familiar... This was safe.

“Welcome back to the World of the Living, Kurosaki-san.”

The strawberry looked over his shoulder, legs turning to jelly as he was met with the familiarly goofy grin, green and white hat, and walking cane. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, feeling his body sag as he lowered his Zanpakutō before he rushed forwards and threw his arms around the shop keeper.

“U-Urahara-san... How did you... When did you...”

“Calm yourself Kurosaki-san. Everything is alright.” The blond rubbed his back soothingly.

“Is everyone alright? I'm not sure if they were injured...” Ichigo pulled back quickly, turning to check on the condition of his friends.

The strawberry froze, blinking as he found his friends already encircled in a vibrant orange bubble. Confusion touching at his senses as he saw that Orihime was asleep. Chestnut gaze roaming the area, his mouth fell open as he cursed his idiocy for not noticing the largely built man before.

Rotund in shape and insanely tall, with short pink hair and a matching moustache the man was sat cross legged with his dinner plate sized hands held up, seemingly controlling the flow of the orange barrier. His eyes were small but warm, kind. He smiled gently as he saw Ichigo's gaze.

“My apologies for startling you, Kurosaki-san. My name is Ushōda Hachigen. Please, call me Hachi.” There was a polite bow of the head from the large man as he spoke, his expression never once changing as he took in the strawberry's appearance.

“I... Uh...” Swallowing, Ichigo tried to make sense of his own thoughts, “I'm sorry... What are you doing?”

“Hachi possesses similar abilities to Orihime-san, his are called Time-Space Barriers, namely with the ability of Time-Space Regression which allows incredible levels of healing.” Urahara murmured, “If they did sustain any injuries, you needn't worry, your friends will be fine, Kurosaki-san. Hachi has put them into a deep sleep for the time being to allow them to rest. Don't worry.”

“I... I see... That's good.” He let out a long breath as his mind caught up, “How did you... I mean... The Garganta...”

“There will be time to explain everything once everyone is awake to hear it. For now, I suggest you sit down and have something to eat. You look dead on your feet.” The blond's voice was calming but firm at the same time.

Unable to find a good reason to argue, Ichigo sat down against one of the boulders, tipping his head back and allowing himself to relax completely. Part of him couldn't quite believe they had escaped Hueco Mundo, his heart was heavy for the Espada who had sacrificed themselves for them, and his heart ached for Gin's final request.

Gin...

Did this mean he was on their side? Had he been spying on Aizen all along or was it a recent change of heart? Or was he playing games? He'd seemed genuine, seemed serious... But it was Gin, he was almost as good at lying as Aizen was. But... At the end, when the Garganta had closed, Gin had been fighting along side Starrk... He'd been slowing Aizen down... Didn't that mean something?

Ichigo must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he was aware of was the sound of hushed voices arguing nearby. He recognised two of the voices but the third was new.

“I don't give a fuck how powerful he is, are we sure he's on our side?” The new voice hissed, “I ain't willing to risk Aizen clocking onto us being alive unless there's a damn good reason for it Kisuke.”

“You're acting like he doesn't already know, do you really think that man misses anything?” Urahara's voice was just as muted but was as calm as ever.

“Even so, do you trust him that much? They've been missing for two months, fuck knows what he did in that time.” That was the new voice again.

“If you'd sit down and wait until he wakes up, we will explain what happened while we were... Away.” Byakuya. He sounded annoyed, it was subtle and probably not noticeable to anyone unfamiliar with the noble's more discreet personality shifts.

“Don't bother waiting,” Ichigo muttered as he sat up slowly, craning his neck to loosen the stiff muscles, “Who could sleep with you three whispering so loud?”

Opening his eyes at long last, Ichigo glared across at the three men. They weren't far away from him, stood in an awkward triangle. Byakuya's arms were folded in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. Urahara was wafting his fan in front of his face, hat currently missing from his attire. The voice he hadn't recognised belonged to an average height man, he was lean but broad shouldered, with jaw length blond hair and a straight cut fringe, his eyes were narrowed, brown and currently fixed solely on the strawberry haired Shinigami.

Sighing loudly as he got to his feet, he finally took the time to revert to Shikai. He was glad to see Byakuya seemed fully healed.

“So... Who are you?” He asked, looking at the stranger.

“Shinji Hirako.” The blond answered.

Eyes widening momentarily, Ichigo sucked in a breath, “Division Five's Taichou before Aizen. I heard you were dead.”

“Heard?” Shinji smirked, “Or were told?”

“You tell me, sounds like you have a grudge against Aizen.” The strawberry shrugged.

“Ichigo,” Urahara interrupted, “You should remember that the first time you came here, after your Hollow side first revealed itself, I told you that there were others who had survived Aizen's Hollowfication experiments, although they differed from you, due to them having been Shinigami when they were afflicted.”

“Yeah, I remember.” He murmured, eyes never leaving Aizen's predecessor.

“Hirako-san and Hachi, as well as six other former Taichou and Fukutaichou, are those survivors.” The blond store owner explained, “It was while saving them from execution that myself, Yoruichi-san and Tessai were exiled. You'll meet Tessai upstairs, he was away during your last visits.”

Blowing out a breath, Ichigo shoved his hands in his pockets, “Well I guess that would explain the suspicion. I'd... Probably doubt me too. Look, I'll explain what I can, answer any questions you want but first... I have to know! Is everyone else okay? Orihime? Renji? Rukia? Ishida and Chad... Are they... Are they doing okay?”

“They're fine, Kurosaki-san.” Urahara's hand was gentle on his back, “They are resting upstairs with Yoruichi-san and the other Visored.”

“Let's head up there,” Shinji had already begun walking towards the ladder leading up into the store, “I'm sure everyone is just as eager to hear what you have to say.”

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo followed, hearing Urahara and Byakuya fall into step behind him. He paused long enough to sheath Zangetsu on his back before he began to climb up into the store. When he reached the top and clambered out into the familiar dining room, Ichigo was met by several inquisitive gazes.

The first thing he truly noticed was Rukia, Renji, Chad, Orihime and Ishida sat at the round table in the middle of the room with Yoruichi, they were drinking hot tea and eating a mountain of food between them, aside from looking extremely tired and more than a little underfed, they all seemed to have been healed to excellent health, his mind instantly at ease as he received smiles from them all.

The second thing he noticed, was the looks he received from the people he assumed were the other Visored. They were all as cautious and sceptical as Shinji, except for Hachi who gave him a polite wave as they locked gazes. He returned the gesture and turn turned on his heel, helping Byakuya up instinctively.

It was as he took a seat against the far wall, noticing how everyone's eyes followed him, that Ichigo observed another stranger in the room, he was tall and muscular, dark skinned with cornrowed black hair and a handlebar moustache. The rectangular glasses on his face concealed his eyes completely due to the reflecting light.

“This is Tessai, who I mentioned downstairs.” Urahara announced, noticing Ichigo's stare, “He was the Taichou of the Kidō Corps at the same time that I was Division Twelve's Taichou.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki-dono.” The man's voice was gruff and grumbling, but there was no hostility.

“Likewise, I'm sure.” The strawberry cleared his throat, shuffling his feet as he picked absent mindedly at his shihakusho, only noticing in that moment that his sleeves had not been restored with the end of his Bankai, his tattoos remaining on full display.

He felt stressed beyond words, and extremely tired despite his earlier nap. He assumed it was due to the adrenaline wearing off. But he knew he couldn't back away from this conversation, he had a responsibility to everyone present to explain. To answer their questions.

“Well... I guess I'd better start at the beginning.” He sighed.

* * *

Ichigo told them everything he could now remember, filling in the gaps for those already aware of his history while making clear everything for the Visored who knew nothing. He started with his childhood encounter with Aizen, recounting how he'd been taken to Soul Society, explaining how he'd met Rukia and Renji, and how once he'd gone to Shino he encountered Aizen for the second time.

Shinji hadn't seemed surprised to learn that Aizen had taken Ichigo under his wing during his studying years at Shino Academy, according to the blond Visored, it sounded like something Aizen would do. Apparently that was enough of a reason for his story to be believed.

He had expected to be embarrassed when he explained his relationship with Aizen. The sex, the training, the manipulation that he'd been blind to for so long, sure enough he didn't tell them everything. But it was kind of cleansing to get it off his chest. Ichigo couldn't help but notice Byakuya's tension, he knew the noble still held a lot of guilt on his shoulders for not having poached him for Division Six before Aizen had managed to sink his claws in.

Refusing to shy away, the strawberry haired Shinigami told them the extent of his work for Aizen. The assassinations, the spying, the man's plans to bring down Soul Society, and to rise up and become a God. It sounded insane when he said it aloud, and not for the first time he couldn't believe he'd been so willing to help.

Taking a break for food and drink, Ichigo only paused for a few minutes at a time, briefly going over what had happened once he had been transferred to Division Six, expressing his gratitude for Byakuya and Renji never giving up on him; explaining how Aizen had come to realise where the Hōgyoku was and the subsequent battles on Sôkyoku Hill.

It was only when he began to talk about their rescue mission in Hueco Mundo that he showed any sign of strain, his eyebrows furrowing as he spoke of how loud Shiro's voice had become and how he had struggled to resist the urge to give into his Hollow side. The borderline physical pain that had come from resisting during battle.

He grew more relaxed again when he spoke of finally achieving his Bankai against Aaroniero, and the consequent event of being able to lay his family to rest. Though his tranquillity was soon lost when he reached the point of recounting Ulquiorra's attack. He couldn't bare to go into detail, he skirted around it without making eye contact, despite overcoming so much already he couldn't help but recoil at the memories and the shame that had chained him down.

“So... What about what happened today?” Shinji asked, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back, “Out of the blue Kisuke called us here for a rescue mission. He said he'd received word from Hueco Mundo that you needed help.”

It was in that moment that Byakuya spoke instead, although his eyes fixed on Urahara, “You were Starrk's contact. The 'World of the Living agent'... How long were they feeding you information?”

“Long enough.” The blond replied, “The messages were brief, lacking details. I barely knew who I was speaking to. But they told me that today was the day, that you'd need help escaping Las Noches. So we coordinated a time for me to open a Garganta... And they'd get you all to the Sands.”

“I can't believe I didn't realise.” The noble muttered, “The Espada and I devised a plan to bring Ichigo back. I bound Shiro with Kidō before using... Bakudō: 101.”

“Wait, you did what?!” Urahara barked, his usually calm temperament abandoned, “Do you know how dangerous that was?”

“Of course.” The noble raised one eyebrow, “But there was no other way. And it worked. I sent Shiro's consciousness back into the Inner World so that Ichigo and he would clash.”

“Mm, thanks for that.” Ichigo grumbled, remembering the fight as he rolled his shoulders, “I wouldn't have won that battle if Zangetsu hadn't helped me. He made me remember things... Promises I made... He made me remember what I stand for and... He made me accept myself. That acceptance made me stronger, I wasn't afraid to show my full power anymore.”

“Thank goodness for Zangetsu then.” Byakuya murmured.

“Is that the reason for your... Different look when you appeared? Because you accepted yourself?” Orihime asked, wiping her mouth as she finished eating.

Ichigo allowed his fingers to trail across his tattoos, “Yeah... And I guess all these tattoos mean I'm officially the Head of the Shiba Clan now.”

“I believe that is indeed the case.” Byakuya agreed, “Undoubtedly if you were to contact Kūkaku, you would likely find her tattoos have disappeared.”

“I remember her saying that would happen.” He mused, sighing softly before clearing his throat again.

“If you hadn't appeared when you had Nii-sama would have... And then I... I owe you everything.” Rukia said quietly.

“You owe me nothing. It was my fault you were all in danger to start with.”

“So what happened next?” Yoruichi asked, leaning forwards as she pointed at him, “I doubt that Espada brand happened for no reason.”

“They fought. Ichigo, and Shiro.” Chad's voice was rough.

“Wait, in the real world? Not in your head?” Love asked, he was a brown eyed man with a spiked black afro and mirrored sunglasses, Ichigo was already fond of his laid-back attitude.

“Yep,” Renji folded his arms, “It was quite a spectacle.”

“It was nothing special. We fought first inside my Inner World, I realised that the only way I could dislodge the balance enough to escape and have a chance to retake control was to 'kill' us both in the Inner World. So by applying the same injuries to both our forms at the same time, Shiro would be forced to either heal us both or let us both die. He healed us both and fled. But it was enough to allow me to work my way free.” The strawberry rolled his eyes, “Anyway, afterwards, I realised that I had to weaken him, get him to a point where I could force him to listen to me instead of his instincts.... To be honest... Aizen kind of helped in the end. When Shiro challenged his motives and realised he was being used he merged back with me willingly.”

“So this is a permanent change?” Lisa, who had barely looked up from her erotic manga, now fixed him with her bright turquoise eyes, “Do you have a Hollow hole?”

“Uh...” He stared for a long moment, trying to ignore the pages of the magazine that were currently hanging open in her lap, “Yeah, its permanent. And no, I don't have a Hollow hole.”

“I have one question,” Urahara sat back, leaning on his hands, “What was Gin doing with you when I opened the Garganta?”

“Gin was playing the long game, I think.” Ichigo bit his lip, “He asked me to tell Matsumoto that he was sorry.”

“Perhaps Gin and yourself were in similar situations all along.” Shinji mused.

“Perhaps.” He simply shrugged, rubbing his forehead as he considered Gin's parting words, “He said... I was the only one capable of stopping Aizen. But that I wasn't quite there yet, that I needed to evolve a little more.”

“Ichigo is the only Shinigami of Taichou class reiatsu who has never seen Aizen's Shikai.” Byakuya informed the Visored.

“Truly?” The long haired blond Visored, who had identified himself as Rose, broke free of his disinterested air for a moment.

“Yeah.” Ichigo nodded once.

“Damn.” Love breathed, running a hand through his afro, “I reckon Gin was right then. You might be the only person who can stop him.”

“Well... Fantastic.” He stifled a yawn behind his hand.

There was a moment of quiet before Urahara slapped his fan shut, “I think we've questioned Kurosaki-san enough for tonight. He has been through a lot, he needs rest. Any further questions can be asked tomorrow.”

Shinji got to his feet, stretching lazily before resting his hands on his hips, “Well, at the very least I'm pretty sure you haven't lied about anything, and it seems you have a genuine hostility towards Aizen. So, if you need our help, Ichigo, the Visored will be with you.”

“Don't go making decisions like that by yourself, baldy!” Hiyori, who had been silent almost the entire conversation, suddenly jumped up and slapped the blond with her sandal, “Though, having said that... The idea of some payback does sound good.”

“You little...” The de-facto leader of the Visored growled at her, but shook his head and shoved her teasingly, “Whatever. We've heard his story, let's head home. We can come back tomorrow to finish off this chat.”

“We should be heading home as well.” Ishida murmured, helping his wife to her feet, “Two months is far too long to go without hugging Kaida and Hotaru. I can't wait to just... Tuck them in and read them a story.”

Ichigo got to his feet, shuffling awkwardly for a moment before he walked towards his childhood friends, “Thank you so much, for everything you did. I'm so sorry you were kept away from your children for so long... I'm in your debt.”

Orihime hugged him tightly, “It was worth it, to see you reunited with Kuchiki-san.”

“Just keep a lid on that albino bastard of yours from now on.” Ishida smirked, but when he held his hand out to shake Ichigo's, the strawberry knew his warning came from a good place.

“I will.” He promised, returning the thumbs up that Chad threw his way, he waited for the Humans and the Visored to leave completely before allowing his shoulders to slump through a mixture of regret, release and exhaustion.

“Go to bed Kurosaki-san.” Urahara said from across the room.

“I will but there's something I have to ask you first.” He turned slowly, looking at the blond.

“And what is that?”

“You... Were friends with my mum and dad, weren't you?” Ichigo saw the blond man's smile widen a little.

“Yes, yes I was.” He nodded, “I knew Isshin for a long time, and after my exile I helped him with a Gigai so he could live as a Human with Masaki.”

“Why didn't you tell me? When Yoruichi-san brought Byakuya and I here... You never said... You treated me like a stranger...”

Urahara got to his feet slowly and walked towards him, tilting his head to the side as he rested his hands on the younger man's shoulders, “Would you have believed me? Would you have remembered me? At that time your memories were a broken jumble thanks to Shiro's influence.”

“Such things have never stopped you in the past.” Byakuya commented from the sidelines.

The blond sighed deeply, shooting a silent glare at the noble before he looked back at Ichigo, “How was I to try and tell you anything about them... When you couldn't even recognise your own Godfather?”

Chestnut eyes widened sharply, staring up at him, “You're...”

“No way...” He heard Rukia and Renji say in unison.

Urahara offered him a small smile, “Believe me, treating you like a stranger was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Kurosaki-san. But I had no choice. You had to discover the truth for yourself, even the small details.”

“No wonder you were so willing to help me escape Aizen's clutches. It must have been killing you to know I'd been taken in by him.”

“I know what that man's capable of. I'm also aware of what Byakuya Kuchiki is capable of. I found a great deal of solace knowing you had him on your side.” Urahara squeezed his shoulder again, “Now, go to bed Kurosaki-san. Any further discussions can be done in the morning.”

“I... I'll take you up on that.” He replied, rubbing his eyes wearily before he trudged off, pausing in the doorway and glancing back at the Shinigami in the room, “Thank you all, for everything.”


	67. Where We Go Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ichigo struggles to find rest after the long and strenuous events in Hueco Mundo, he receives a familiar visitor in his room and together Ichigo and Byakuya talk through the things that are troubling them.

Ichigo sat on his futon for what felt like hours after leaving the dining room, covers draped loosely over his shoulders to keep the edging cold from his skin, he allowed his back to rest against the wall as he stared out of the large window to his right. It was the middle of the night, and once again the moon was full and blossoming with light, light which trickled down over the rooftops and crept into the room, casting shadows of foliage on the floor.

He was exhausted, completely and utterly, and yet he couldn't find sleep. So much had happened, and he'd slept for so long already... Rest had soon become an impossibility. His mind was too alive, even while his body longed for peace.

There was a deep seated tranquillity, however, in allowing his mind to wander away from him. Without much concentration he could now easily detect Orihime and Ishida's reiatsu from half way across the town, they were cuddled close together, with the small flares of their children between them. He imagined the small family would remain that way for some time, until they got used to being together again. He could sense Chad, the calmness of his aura suggested the man was also deeply asleep, no doubt recovering his spent energy.

Bringing his new found ability to actually sense reiatsu with ease a little closer to home, he could sense Rukia and Renji several doors down, they were together as well, clung tightly to one and other. He was happy for them. And across the hallway, Urahara and Yoruichi were undoubtedly curled up together, although if the woman's reiatsu was anything to go by, she was in her cat form.

“May I join you?”

Ichigo looked up quickly at the voice, surprised that for all his improved skills he had managed to completely miss the approach of Byakuya Kuchiki. The man was standing tall, proud, with his long locks drawn up into a tail, kenseikan currently missing from his attire; and there was caution in his eyes. An anxiety that seemed to run deep.

“Of course.” The strawberry replied, moving over on the futon to make room for the other man, unable to prevent a small grin as the scene felt reminiscent of a time that seemed ancient.

“My thanks.” The noble slipped beneath the covers, leaning against the wall as well, his eyes drawn to the moonlight, just as Ichigo's had been, “I was... Unsure if you'd desire my company.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?” He asked quietly.

There was an uncharacteristic hesitation as Byakuya spoke, his voice strained despite the serenity on his face, “You... Recall all of what happened while Shiro was in control, yes?”

“I didn't at first, but... I think so...” Ichigo confirmed, letting out a long breath, “You're... You thought I wouldn't want to be near you because of Shiro and Aizen's... Relationship. I can understand why you'd be nervous but, surely you understand that it wasn't me. It wasn't what I wanted, I was never even part of the equation...”

“I do understand that, more than you could ever realise.” The Kuchiki heir silenced his anxiety with ease, despite his own persisting, “But, my own concern comes from how much you remember about myself... And Grimmjow.”

The sunrise haired Shinigami paused, lowering his gaze, “He taunted Shiro by telling him that he planned to fuck you... In reality it was a ruse to try and make me surface though... I'm assuming jealousy. Shiro's clouding his memories of what happened, he seems... Ashamed. Why would he be ashamed?”

Byakuya's shoulders dropped and he ran a hand down his face, “I will not blame you if you come to hate me for it... It was a foolish plan born from desperation. Grimmjow's desperation to help. We made an agreement to do whatever was necessary to get that rise from Shiro, to try and trigger the possessive, jealous reaction. To go as far as it required.”

“To go as... It wasn't a ruse was it?” Ichigo realised, “Grimmjow was serious about fucking you.”

“Yes.” The there was a pinched tension in his voice, “Not because of attraction or desire, but because it seemed like a plausible way to weaken Shiro's hold over you.”

“And... How far did it get?”

“Not far. Shiro appeared and knocked Grimmjow out cold.”

Ichigo relaxed almost instantly, “I see, so why are you so worried?”

“Because the basic effect worked, Shiro was... Crazed. And the possessiveness clouded his judgement for a time. The need to claim what he saw to be his.” The nobleman looked at him slowly, “We had sex. Just once, he freaked out afterwards and it seemed to strengthen his hold over you more than ever.”

“Oh.” Was all the strawberry could say as he stared, Shiro's own recollection of the event becoming clearer now that it had been revealed, “He didn't force himself on you... Did he?”

“No. It was... Consensual.” Byakuya looked away, head hanging low.

“I'm glad.”

“What?!” Came the sharp response.

“You were willing to do with Grimmjow what I was willing to do with Aizen, to protect my friends... How could I hate you for that, or be angry about it? It was... Stupid. Reckless and... Brave.” Ichigo reached out and linked their fingers, “And as long as Shiro didn't hurt you, as long as he didn't inflict on you what Ulquiorra did to me... I'm relieved.”

“You truly feel that way?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “I had expected some anger... Shouting... Feelings of betrayal.”

“How can I be angry, or feel betrayed? I'm only sad that you were pushed to such extremes. But in the end, you only acted to try and bring me back, not because you were thinking of cheating on me, or... Or moving on. It was all... Selfless, all very you...”

“What did I do to deserve you? I hadn't believed for even a moment you would be so understanding... I thought... Well I came here expecting to grovel on my hands and knees for your forgiveness.” The nobleman shook his head in disbelief, “You amaze me.”

Ichigo giggled softly, “Well, I wish I had known. The idea of seeing you prostrate yourself in front of me is rather enjoyable.”

“Hm, same old Ichigo. Full of cheek.” Byakuya lifted their hands and kissed the strawberry's knuckles, “May I ask... How are you dealing with what happened? With Ulquiorra?”

He tensed, smile fading slowly as he considered the question. How was he dealing with it? Had he dealt with it at all? He lifted his free hand to his throat, fingers tracing the puckered scar nestled between the natural lines of his skin. The scar would linger for the rest of his life, a constant reminder. The scar of Ulquiorra trying to behead him. The permanent reminder of having been too weak to fight back.

“I am struggling,” he confessed softly, “But, it's something I have to learn to cope with. I'm sure as time passes it will get smaller, less noticeable... It's something that I'll learn to live with.” He said quietly.

“I will help you, in any way I can. Even after everything that has happened... I want you to know that I...” Byakuya paused, looking down with a shyness Ichigo had never seen before, “I still hold you in the very highest regard, as a friend... A colleague and a partner and... I still love you more than words could _ever_ express.”

“You do?” The strawberry could help but sound surprised, “Even now? I... I'm not the same as I used to be. I'm not even sure what I am, some... Hybrid creature. I'm used to strange looks because of my hair but this will be different. I'm not exactly... Normal anymore.”

“You were never normal, Ichigo. Not even as a child.”

“True.” He admitted, “But at least I could pretend.”

Byakuya kissed Ichigo's temple softly, his expression sweet, “I love you, differences and all. You are you, Ichigo Kurosaki. Anyone who can't accept that, isn't worthy of your time.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, face flushing subtly, “And for the record, in case you were worried... I still love you too. More than anything.”

“I am proud of you.” The Kuchiki heir said softly, “I wish I could protect you from what's coming, I wish I could spirit you away so you never had to face Aizen again... But knowing you, you'd claw your way back and berate me for not letting you protect your friends.”

“As long as we stick together, we can protect each other and our friends.” Ichigo chuckled, amused by how much his lover understood his motives, “I'm not entirely sure how things will be when we get back to Soul Society... Kyōraku and Ukitake kind of broke me out of jail so I could leave to rescue you...”

Byakuya tensed against him and released a long sigh, “There is something you should know... We won't be able to return to Seireitei for a few days. It seems that... There was an assassin left in Soul Society. And they struck during our absence.”

“An assassin?” He breathed, eyes wide.

“Indeed, regrettably... Sasakibe Fukutaichou, and Yamamoto Sou-Taichou were killed.”

“What?” He gasped, “But that's impossible! No one's strong enough to straight up kill Yamamoto... That's... I can't believe it!”

“I know. I-I didn't believe it when Urahara told me either. But Yoruichi was given the report by Soi-Fon herself just before they sealed the Senkaimon out of respect.”

“What the fuck...” Ichigo covered his mouth with his hand, “I know there's a field agent in Soul Society, Shiro asked Starrk about it once but... Surely not someone strong enough to kill Yamamoto. What's happening over there now?”

“A new Sou-Taichou is being chosen.” Byakuya replied, “At the moment it seems the candidates are Unohana, Ukitake and Kyōraku.”

“Either of them would be decent.” The strawberry thought aloud, “Though I can't imagine Unohana Taichou ever leaving Division Four, and Ukitake Taichou is most likely too sickly to accept such a high demanding position.”

“The new Sou-Taichou will most likely be Kyōraku.” The Kuchiki heir brushed his yukata down, “Which gives you an added benefit.”

“Me?”

“Ukitake and Kyōraku were aware of the depths of your involvement with Aizen. They were both sympathetic to your situation, and were understanding beyond measure. If you recall, they were both investigating Aizen as well, they were the ones who discovered Central 46 had been massacred.” Steel eyes narrowed slightly, “And as you said, they were both responsible for breaking you out of prison to launch your rescue mission. If anyone will listen to you with an open mind... It's Ukitake and Kyōraku.”

“I guess that's true... I think it would be best if I considered... Telling the complete truth about my involvement with Aizen. After all, I can't trust him to keep it to himself if it will give him an advantage. With Kyōraku as the Sou-Taichou I believe... At the very least I could avoid prison. And with the benefit of me not having seen Aizen's Shikai, maybe I'd be able to keep me position.”

“It's a dangerous move, but I believe you are correct in making it.” The nobleman paused, “On the subject of positions I wanted to run something past you...”

“What is it?”

Byakuya took a breath, “There are now four empty Taichou positions in Seireitei... With Yamamoto's death.”

“Yeah, there are.” He frowned, “It will be troublesome to be that short on Taichou level Shinigami if it comes to war with Aizen.”

Humming in agreement, the raven haired noble sat up straight, “I was thinking of recommending Renji to take the Taichou Proficiency Test. What are your thoughts?”

“Renji?” Ichigo repeated, falling silent for a long moment before he grinned, “He'd be awful at keeping on top of his paperwork. But he would be diligent to his duties and dedicated to his Division. The real question is whether or not he'd want to leave Division Six.”

Byakuya laughed, more than agreeing with his lover's assessment of the situation, only to look puzzled as he finished speaking, “Why would he not wish to leave? He would be bettering himself.”

“From the moment he met you, when you adopted Rukia, his biggest wish in the world has been to surpass you. To prove that a kid from Rukongai could do just as good in life as a noble. But I don't know if that's what he still wants, you've both said that your relationship has changed. You respect each other. He might be happy remaining as your second in command.” The strawberry explained, closing his eyes as he rested his head on the other man's shoulder.

“Hm,” steel eyes slipped shut as well as he slipped his arm around his lover and hugged him close to the side of his body, “I hadn't considered that. It is true, if Renji accepted my proposition and passed the Test I would miss his presence in the Division. He had always brought that little bit of chaos with him that makes him unique. But I believe he could do a great deal of good as a Taichou. He is down to Earth, popular and steadfast, just the kind of man needed to restore trust in the affected Divisions.”

Ichigo couldn't help but smile at the high praise. He would never forget his first evening in Division Six, when Renji had first mentioned how his relationship with his Taichou had changed, how things had been better. He was glad to see it went both ways, and was deep seated.

“Speaking of seated positions, don't you think it's about time you revoked the ban on Ukitake giving Rukia the position she deserves?” The strawberry raised an eyebrow, peering up at him.

Byakuya's eyes snapped open at that, “How do you know about that?”

“I have unrestricted access to your office at the mansion, remember?” Ichigo smirked, “I saw it among your paperwork one evening. Honestly, I get wanting to protect her for Hisana's sake, but if you keep holding her back she will resent you for it. Judging by how she handled herself in Hueco Mundo, she's at least Fukutaichou material. In a few years, probably even Taichou material.”

Shaking his head, lips quirked in amusement, the raven haired noble sighed softly, “In all honesty, I had already decided to speak to Ukitake about it. It was a promise I made to myself, if I ever saw Soul Society again.”

Grinning brightly now, Ichigo laid down on the futon, snuggling under the covers and peeking up at his fiancé, “Sounds like a plan, I can't wait to see her face when she's given the official invitation to become an adjutant.”

Watching his lover for a long moment, Byakuya seemed to be considering something, and then as if gathering his thoughts all at once he slowly climbed over Ichigo, hovering above him so that the long strands of his fringe tickled the strawberry's face.

“If Renji agrees to take the Proficiency Test, Rukia would not be the only one receiving an adjutant invitation,” leaning down, the Division Six Taichou brushed his nose along Ichigo's cheek, planting a sweet kiss on the shell of his ear, “I do believe that when you applied for the position of Third Seat, you said you'd enjoy working _under_ me. I feel that enjoyment would be easier served if you were closer to me, in rank as well as physical distance.”

Chestnut eyes widening as he realised what was being implied, Ichigo's breath caught in his throat, “Me? Become your Fukutaichou?”

“I would recommend you for the Taichou Proficiency Test as well, but given your plans to reveal your former working relationship with Aizen to the other Taichou, I feel you would be better suited to being my second in command until you regain their trust.” Byakuya stated and gave a small shrug.

Running his hands up his fiancé's chest slowly, before looping his shoulders with his arms, the strawberry pulled his lover into a breathtaking kiss. He was pleasantly reminded of the softness of his lips, and the subtle scent of blossom and musk that hung around his skin like a mist, “It would be an honour, to become your Fukutaichou.” He whispered against those lips.

“There's only one thing left for me to ask then,” Byakuya pulled back just enough to look into those chestnut and gold eyes, “Do you plan to take the Shiba name, or remain as a Kurosaki? I simply have to know, for the forms you see.”

“Oh I'm sure that's the only reason you want to know.” He rolled his eyes and shrugged, “I'm proud of being a Kurosaki. But... My memories are completely restored now, and I want to make Kūkaku, Ganju and Kaien proud too.”

“I will support you, no matter which you choose.”

Smiling at the other man's words, Ichigo let out a breath, “I want to try and appeal and have the Shiba Clan reinstated as one of the Great Noble Houses... I was thinking, if I were to succeed I could use the Shiba name for official Clan business while maintaining the Kurosaki name for all things Goeti Thirteen.”

Byakuya returned his smile and kissed his forehead as he laid down beside him, pulling the covers securely around them both, “That sounds like an excellent idea, and I believe I have some leeway with the authorities, if I am able to assist you in your wish to reinstate your Clan... You have my word, as the heir of the Kuchiki Clan, that I will help you.”

“My thanks.” The strawberry grinned, curling up on his side and burrowing into his lover's neck, tiredness finally reaching him, “I've missed you, Byakuya.”

“And I have missed you, Ichigo. Get some sleep now. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Mm.” The younger man grunted softly as sleep began to take him, “Even if you did... I just come and get you again...”

Chuckling at his slurred words, the noble was certain he would indeed follow him no matter where he went. And for that, Byakuya was truly grateful.


	68. Training Room Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple playful bet becomes much more when made between two highly competitive combatants like Ichigo and Byakuya.

Ichigo was woken the next morning by the smell of food and tea, wincing deeply as he felt the warmth of sunlight flashing over his face he rolled onto his stomach, trying to crawl back beneath the covers and return to the slumbering rest he'd fallen into. His eyes flew open as he heard a throaty chuckle from beside him and he sat up sharply, finding himself staring down at Byakuya, who currently wore a deeply amused expression.

“I forgot how much you hate getting up in the morning.” The raven haired noble mused, raising one eyebrow at him.

Ignoring the jibe, Ichigo instead grinned and leaned down, capturing the nobleman's lips firmly with his own, tangling his fingers in silky hair as he clung onto him as if it was the first time they'd kissed, “It's your fault, really. If you weren't so damned delectable it wouldn't be an issue.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Byakuya smirked, “Hungry?”

A sharp nod, “Starving.”

The strawberry rose to his feet as his lover did the same, Ichigo padded over to the mirror in the corner of the room and winced as he was forced to de-tangle his kenseikan from his temple, cursing himself for having forgotten to remove it before falling asleep. Almost tempted to yank his hair out at the roots, his actions were halted by another pair of hands joining the struggle, nimble and more experienced fingers making short work of the tangled mess.

“The longer your hair is, the more difficult it can be to manage the kenseikan.” Byakuya informed him, “You will likely find it easier to ask for help in the future. It will take far less time, and discomfort.”

“I could just cut my hair back to its normal length.” The strawberry grumbled, but there was no seriousness in his voice, truth be told he rather liked his hair long. It gave him a more refined, elegant appearance, ruffled by the harshness of his tattoos and the sharpness of his facial features. If he was being completely honest, he liked who he had become.

“If you cut your hair I will cut your fingers off.” The Kuchiki heir muttered, face expressing his seriousness as he ran a brush through the sunrise coloured hair.

Giggling in spite of himself, Ichigo purred at the feeling of someone else brushing it for him, allowing his eyes to slip shut, “I don't doubt it.”

“It's quite lovely,” the noble breathed, leaning in and placing a kiss on Ichigo's exposed neck, noticing the Gothic zero which remained etched among his other markings, “Just like you.”

“Now who's flattering who?”

Long fingers carefully reattached the kenseikan in place, smoothing down Ichigo's hair before allowing himself the luxury of tousling the spiky segments still sat atop his head, “You spent some time aiding me with my own kenseikan while my arm was unusable. It is a pleasure to return the favour.”

“Mm, I meant to ask about that. Did 'Hime fix it?” The younger Shinigami asked, eyes fluttering open as he felt his lover step back.

“She did. It took three sessions for it to be fully restored, but at long last I have full function back.” Byakuya flexed his fingers as if to prove his point, “She has an incredible power.”

“She does.” He agreed.

“Speaking of which,” steel eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Your impressive display of using Cero... I was under the impression you required Shiro's help to cast them.”

“I did,” Ichigo agreed, “But one of the perks of connecting to Zangetsu better is having better reiatsu control. Which means... A lot of the previous skills I was incapable of using are now available to me.”

“Even Kidō?”

“Maybe... I haven't tried yet.”

“Hm, I don't know what to say Ichigo. Bankai, Cero, potentially Kidō, sensing reiatsu with ease, Taichou levels of reiatsu at your disposal and a Hollow who is finally willing to behave.” Byakuya slipped his arms around Ichigo's waist, “Sounds to me like, despite all the negativity of your rescue mission, you gained quite a bit as well.”

“I can't argue.” He chuckled, “I'm grateful for the experience, even if I wish it had gone a little smoother.”

“You and me both.” The nobleman hummed, “Despite having seen you in battle on a few previous occasions, they hardly compare to the battles in Hueco Mundo. You have refined your skills however, and no longer allow arrogance to divert your concentration.”

Smirking at the praise, Ichigo wiggled his eyebrows, “Well, I have a habit of amalgamating the techniques of people I've fought against. I'm not so sure about the arrogance though, after all, I'm positive I could finally beat you in the training ring with my Bankai.”

“Is that so?” Byakuya scoffed, shaking his head despite the amusement tugging at his lips, “Well then, seeing as we are likely to be here for a few days before the Senkaimon are open to us... I may take you up on that bet.”

“Bet? I didn't say anything about a bet!”

“Scared to put your money where your mouth is, Kurosaki?” That smile turned smug, “If you apologise, I won't hold you to it.”

The strawberry jeered, and gave him a playful shove in the chest, “Oh you are so on, Kuchiki. Just try not to look too much like you might cry when I trample on your precious pride!”

“Bold words, from someone who has so far been unable to last even an hour against my Shikai. How terrifying it must be to contemplate my Bankai.” Steel eyes almost seemed to glimmer with humour.

“I am going to thrash you.” Ichigo jabbed, his hand snatching out, grabbing the hair tie which had so diligently held his fiancé's hair at bay overnight, he tugged it free with ease and dangled it mockingly, “How can someone hope to beat me, when they can't even protect themselves from having this stolen? You're getting slow, Byakuya Kuchiki!”

Blinking in surprise as he felt his hair flutter down around him, the nobleman's eyebrow twitched, memories flooding back of _that woman_ , Yoruichi, doing exactly the same thing in her efforts to train him all those years ago.

“You are so dead.” Byakuya breathed, lunging towards his wayward lover, growling under his breath as the younger Shinigami simply used Shunpo to evade him, “Are you challenging _me_?”

“Always.” Warm eyes narrowed with playfulness before the strawberry abruptly turned and fled the room with a whoop of laughter.

Ichigo felt his fiancé move after him, and he weaved through the hallways of Urahara's home with elegance, despite his speed. Although, admittedly, he did almost knock poor Tessai flying when the tall man had come unexpectedly out of one of the bathrooms. He vowed to apologise later.

He knew he had gotten faster, but the tight space of the store was no place to accurately prove such a thing, not without accidentally crashing through a shōji wall and bringing disgrace to his host by doing so.

The strawberry skidded around another corner, yelping as a fan slapped him curtly in the face, the force of which brought him to an immediate stop. Almost instantly he felt arms encircle his body and he was forced flat on the floor, face down, and the hair tie deftly stolen from his grasp.

“Ha!” Byakuya's triumphant voice came from directly next to his ear.

“Don't 'ha' me, if Urahara hadn't smacked me I'd still have been moving.” He snorted.

“My apologies, Kurosaki-san, I thought we had an intruder, what with all the noise.” The blond man's voice was barely hiding his laughter.

“Of course you did.” He couldn't help but snicker as well.

“You two seem in high spirits this morning.” Yoruichi's voice came from across the room, and for the first time Ichigo realised he had skidded headlong into the dining room.

“I think I even heard Nii-sama laughing, you know.” Rukia's teasing tones came from their left, where she was sitting with Renji.

“I thought he was snarling.” Ichigo joked, craning his neck to try and see his lover's face.

“No, Rukia is quite correct.” The raven haired man admitted, carefully getting to his feet and assisting the strawberry as well, “It has been some time since I enjoyed a game of tag.”

“You have never enjoyed a game of tag, Little Byakuya.”

“On the contrary, just because I never enjoyed _your_ games, doesn't mean I would find displeasure with someone else.” His snide tone towards the buxom woman was muted by the grin still etched across his face.

Ichigo laughed freely as he took a seat at the table, gratefully accepting a hearty looking breakfast from Tessai and tucked in eagerly along side everyone else. They made small talk, chatting about nothing at all that seemed important. It was just nice to be together again.

“I find myself curious,” Urahara was the first to broach a more serious topic as he looked at Ichigo over the brim of his cup, “How is Shiro? Has he had time to recover and come to terms with everything?”

The strawberry paused, “Shiro is quiet at the moment. I believe he's spending some time to work things out for himself. Every now and again I get a little glimpse at what he's feeling. Mostly shame, embarrassment, hurt... He's broken knowing that Aizen lied to him, and that he fell for it. But... I think he'll recover in time.”

“Aizen is a cruel man to be sure.” The blond hummed, “What of Zangetsu?”

“Despite my Zanpakutō being in its Shikai form, he is remaining in his Bankai appearance within my Inner World. He said that his old form had nothing more to teach me. He was injured in the fight with Shiro but he's fully recovered. He is, I think, trying to help Shiro come to terms with things in his own way.”

“That's good news. I know you've already increased your strength by subjugating Shiro's power however I think you should become better acquainted with any new powers your connection gives you.” Urahara was topping up his cup with tea, “Hirako-san said he would be coming back today with the other Visored to clear up any outstanding questions. While they're here, I think it would be a good idea for you to train with them. They will be able to teach you a great deal about summoning your Hollow mask, and harnessing Shiro's powers to the fullest.”

“Sounds good.” He said quietly, “I don't want to go back to Soul Society and end up hurting someone because I can't control it properly.”

“Excellent, they should be here later on today. In the meantime feel free to do as you wish. I'm sure you will find something to do to entertain yourself.”

“Perhaps we can entertain that bet I mentioned.” Byakuya smirked as he finished his breakfast, flashing his fiancé a smug look.

“Only if you're sure your pride can handle it.” Ichigo replied mischievously.

“Something tells me I don't want to miss this.” Renji scoffed.

“Feel free to use the underground training room, it's there for a reason.” Urahara chuckled and got to his feet, “Just don't break _everything_.”

“Thanks Urahara-san!” The strawberry stood up eagerly, “I'll grab Zangetsu and meet you down there!”

“I'll be waiting.” Byakuya's lips twitched as he watched his fiancé hurry back down the hallway.

* * *

It only took a few minutes for Ichigo to retrieve Zangetsu from the bedroom, but it was long enough for Byakuya; Renji; Rukia and Yoruichi to congregate downstairs. The Division Six Taichou was already waiting with Senbonzakura drawn, the feeling of the man's reiatsu buffered against Ichigo's. He was taken aback for a moment. He'd forgotten how pure and righteous his lover's reiatsu felt.

Byakuya only turned to face him when Renji and Yoruichi began whooping and hollering, egging them both on eagerly. The nobleman couldn't resist rolling his eyes as his Fukutaichou and former mentor seemed far more invested in a simple training session than either he or Ichigo were.

“How do you want to do this, Ichigo?” He asked, giving his sword a few practise swings, “Would you like to warm up in Shikai first? Or go straight for the kill?”

Ichigo reached up and released Zangetsu from the bandage sheath on his back, bringing the body sized blade down between them, “I'm going for the kill.”

“I'd expect no less.”

As their reiatsu rose and shifted, Ichigo brought his free hand up to rest on his forearm while Byakuya allowed Senbonzakura to slip from his grasp. Their unified call of “Bankai” couldn't have been more different. The strawberry's was shouted, as if torn from his lungs with the gusto of his swirling reiatsu, while the raven haired Shinigami's was murmured with a controlled exhalation.

The familiar scene of dozens of large blades rising around them as Byakuya's Bankai took effect normally brought a shiver of nervousness to his opponents, but in Ichigo all he could see was keen eyes taking in the sight.

“Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.” Steel eyes narrowed confidently, “This is the first time you've seen it, if I remember correctly.”

Ichigo's focused gaze flicked up to meet his, the elongated chain of his katana wrapping up his arm to fuse them together, “Tensa Zangetsu, it's not as fancy as yours but then... Few things are really.” He grinned.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, except when we're on the battle field.” Byakuya smirked.

He didn't reply, but instead turned his attention back to the blades around them, he could feel each one thrumming with the nobleman's reiatsu, and if his Bankai was to be anything like his Shikai then he assumed the blades would explode into petals on Byakuya's command. Stronger, faster and in greater number than his Shikai.

Without warning, Ichigo swung his sword out, “Getsuga Tenshou!”

He watched as the swords immediately exploded as he had expected. He leapt forwards, bursting into his Bankai enhanced Shunpo as he wove through the waterfalls of swirling petals, touching down elegantly as he rested his hand on Byakuya's chest.

“Gotcha.” He teased.

Steel eyes probably couldn't have gone any wider, “Your Shunpo has vastly improved. Impressive. But don't be so arrogant to think you could keep up with me just yet.”

Ichigo was saved the trouble of responding when he sensed movement behind him, ducking away he weaved through the angry rainfall of cerise, darting out of its grasp even as elongated fingers snapped out towards him in a pincer movement. He was glad, the one thing that had never changed was just how much he enjoyed fighting. And when it was with someone like Byakuya...

The way the nobleman's face ignited with tactical awareness; eyes that narrowed with the faintest crowfeet budding in the corners as his concentration grew ever more pronounced, the tight line of his lips that every so often would part to suck in a breath of surprise or frustration; the long lines of his arms and hands sweeping out like the conductor of an orchestra. It was perfection. _He_ was perfection.

But Ichigo was playing with him. Springing around the vast training area with such swiftness that he began leaving momentary doubles of himself behind. He could see the surprise on the faces of Rukia and Renji. He felt the burn of Yoruichi's eyes following him, she was the master of Shunpo even if Byakuya was close on her tail. But then... He wasn't pushing himself. Not yet. If he pushed hard enough, would any of them keep track?

A boulder shattered under foot as he used it to propel himself forwards, driving harder and faster, the world seemed in perfect order to him. He could see the rise and fall of Byakuya's chest as he drew breath, he could see how Rukia's hair fluttered in the breeze caused by their conflict. It seemed like normal, real time movements but it was only when Ichigo realised he could see and track each individual movement of each tendril of petals that he knew he'd broken a boundary.

If he could see it, break down its' movements and its' trajectory then he could beat it. He could beat Byakuya's Bankai!

… But did he want to? It was the man's pride and joy, the unrelenting speed of the petals; the perfect offence and defence rolled into one. He'd been through so much over the last couple of months, did Ichigo really want to take that away from him? Was it alright to do it? Wasn't it enough just for him to privately know he could?

He felt the sting of steel against his cheek, hissing as he felt blood run down his neck from the small wound. Even after all this time, he still overthought everything and it was still his biggest downfall in battle.

Blinking, Ichigo suddenly remembered something Renji had said to him in the past. A fleeting gleam of information. A titbit that he'd stored away, despite thinking it was useless at the time.

“ _Kuchiki Taichou's Bankai is fierce... I don't know how anyone would beat it. The speed is incredible normally, but when he uses his hands it doubles. If he ever uses his hands to control it... You know he's serious.”_

And there it was.

Byakuya was already using everything he had. He'd been controlling his Bankai with his hands from the very beginning of their spar. There had never been a single moment when he hadn't been serious about it. Which meant... It was alright.

He skidded to a stop, blowing away the sandy dust raised by his feet sliding across the uneven ground with a single swing of his sword. The adrenaline was pumping, faster and harder. His eyes were alight with energy.

The voracious tsunami of pink was washing its way towards him, smashing boulders and cliff sides with abandon. It hit him, engulfed him, surrounded him in a gyrating, ever swirling ball. He lifted Tensa Zangetsu and narrowed his gaze, allowing his reiatsu to flow through him like a fountain as he released a roar and knocked away every attack that came close, spinning once on the spot as he threw everything he had into it and broke through the dense wall.

He didn't stop until he had knocked aside every petal, every tendril and finger that dared creep forwards. And with a momentary gasp, he watched as the razor sharp flurry crumpled onto the floor in defeat.

He watched as Senbonzakura reformed into a katana within Byakuya's grasp. Not entirely ready to believe he had succeeded. And yet... The subtle lull of the Kuchiki heir's reiatsu as he removed himself from Bankai was enough to confirm that he had done just that. He'd won.

Panting, sweating and gasping, he couldn't help but grin as he trotted over to the raven haired Shinigami. He was nervous, not sure what he expected to see. Would there be anger, frustration, embarrassment...

 _'Oh my...'_ He couldn't help but stop in his tracks at the breath taking smile that had eclipsed Byakuya's face.

“Ichigo...” The man said simply, “That was truly incredible.”

“T-Thanks.” Ichigo replied breathlessly, feeling his face warm beneath that gaze, it was so full of pride he thought he'd burst.

“Holy shit!” Renji was running over, his mouth hanging open, “I can't believe you just did that! What the fuck?!”

Rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as Rukia joined them, “It was a really good fight.”

“It was.” Byakuya agreed as he sheathed the katana at his side, “You've improved a great deal since the first time we trained together.”

“Yeah... I got my ass handed to me.” He muttered.

The nobleman smirked, “At the time you were a suspect, I had to give you a hard time to see how you'd react.”

“Is that your way of saying I deserved it?” He scoffed.

“Perhaps.”

Ichigo laughed hard at his innocent admission and rolled his eyes as he allowed Zangetsu to revert into Shikai and sheathed the body sized blade over his back. They'd finished at a good time because at that very moment the trap door in the ceiling opened up and the strawberry haired Shinigami watched as Shinji dropped down from above.

“Well, I guess it's time to get my ass handed to me by someone vastly more experienced with Hollows...” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Ever feel like your life is one big revolving door?”


	69. No Quick Fixes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's day is busy, filled with hard work; training and revelations he's not entirely sure he wants anything to do with.

Ichigo trained with the Visored for the rest of the day, they took it in turns so they didn't burn out their energy reserves and he just continued like the unstoppable force he always was. By the time he'd managed to disarm Shinji in their third bout together he was sweating profusely, with more than a few grim bruises and scrapes making themselves known. His regenerative abilities helped a little, lessening the blood loss and the sting, but the wounds remained open.

It had come as something of a surprise, when fighting the abstract group of former Goeti Thirteen elites, to discover each of them was relatively limited in the length of time they could keep their own Hollow masks in place. He was surprised as well by how different each mask was, in shape, size, design. He wondered if they somehow reflected the personality of the Shinigami, or maybe their Inner Hollow.

His own control over his Hollow mask was intermittent. When he was focused he could maintain it for well over half an hour, when distracted it was less than five minutes.

With the exception of Hachigen and Shinji, he was treated with caution and a little bit of lingering reservation. Despite their lengthy discussion the night before, he couldn't blame them for keeping him at arm's length. They'd been hiding from Aizen for decades, it was natural that they'd be worried to get involved with one of his former subordinates. He really didn't blame them, but despite their carefulness he felt strangely at home within their little group. Uncertain if it was because they were part Hollow, or simply because they too had been experimented on by Aizen, he couldn't entirely put a finger on what made him so comfortable.

Despite the short length of time they'd known each other, Ichigo felt like he got on with Shinji better than the others. There was something about the man's sly wit and not so subtle innuendos that felt familiar and relaxing. Not that it gave him any benefits when training against the man, Shinji was a machine. Hard hitting, fast, relentless. It wasn't hard to see the lingering remnants of a former Taichou behind eyes that hid more anger and pain than he let on.

Letting out a long breath, Ichigo glanced to the side, “Thanks again for this Hachi.”

“You are more than welcome, Kurosaki-san. Please sit still a little longer, I am almost done.” The rotund man smiled warmly, hands raised as he enforced the orange healing Kidō around Ichigo's body.

Sitting silently as he waited for the man to conclude his work, he found himself thinking about the Visored masks again.

Hachi's was like a demon mask, with tusks and protrusions coming out from the top, there were a row of feathery looking spikes that made it looks like some kind of headdress. Love's looked like a traditional Oni mask, taking the form of some supernatural looking ogre or troll, just like what was described in most traditional Japanese folklore. Mashiro was an interesting case, able to maintain her mask for up to fifteen hours by all accounts, had a mask that seemed similar to a hornet or a bee and the high pitch trills she tended to make when fighting just made her seem even more bug like in Ichigo's opinion.

Tilting his head to the side as he considered the other's, he recalled that Kensei's mask was very straight laced, much like the man himself, it looked like a simple flat face guard. Rose's mask was bird like, it reminded Ichigo of the old medieval plague doctor's attire. Hiyori's mask was rough like her attitude, with a prominent horn in the centre of the forehead, unique diamond shaped markings looked like eyebrows amidst the very skeletal appearance, apparently the mask's power increased with her anger. Lisa's mask was diamanté shaped with a cross like opening instead of a mouth and eye slits, it was simplistic but unique in Ichigo's opinion. Shinji's mask had interested him the most from it's appearance, strongly resembling an Egyptian pharaoh's mask, even complete with a short flowing hood over the back of his head and neck.

The thing that confused him was his own mask's appearance. Unlike any of the Visored, his mask had retained the blackness that had come from Shiro's time as an Espada, the only whiteness on it was the rolling tear markings. None of them had been able to work out why the mask hadn't turned white now he was in control, nor could any of them recall a time when they had seen a Hollow with a black mask as opposed to white. It appeared, just like with everything else, his mask was unique.

“My, my someone's deep in though, eh?”

Ichigo looked around as he heard the voice of the de-facto Visored leader, and blinked upon realising that Hachi had long finished healing him and had apparently disappeared, “Shit on my mind.” He muttered as he got to his feet.

“An airhead like you? I can't believe it.” The blond mocked.

He rolled his eyes and looked around, “Where is everyone?”

“Tessai's been cooking, they've all gone for food.” Shinji leaned against a nearby boulder as he appraised the strawberry, “Ya got a minute, before you head up?”

“Sure. What's up?” He adjusted his shihakusho and sash as he checked himself over, Hachi's talents were truly amazing.

“The others... We've been through a lot because of Aizen. Some more than others. But you've had it even harder.” There was a serious edge to his voice, “It must be tough, having gone from Aizen's favourite to the hero everyone expects to stop him. You act carefree, like it's nothing. But how true is that?”

Ichigo stared at him for a moment, mimicking his stance with the addition of folding his arms, “You're worried about me? Don't be.”

“Worried about you? Don't be stupid. I know you're physically strong enough to take him on, once you've trained a bit more. I'm talking about what's going on in that head of yours.” Shinji took a breath and sighed, “It takes more than a budding new relationship to hide the scars from the old one.”

“Look... If you think I'm gonna freeze on the battle field because of memories of a few fun encounters in the past, then you're way off the mark. My skin crawls at the mere memory of his touch. It's not going to be a problem.” He didn't mean for his voice to come out so sharply, and he clicked his tongue in frustration, “I know you mean well... But I'm fine.”

Pushing away from the rock face, Ichigo moved past Shinji in hopes of getting a decent portion of Tessai's cooking. He hadn't eaten since that morning and his gut was finally punishing him for it.

“Never sleep in his bed. And never fuck someone else while he is interested in you.” Shinji's voice cut through Ichigo like a knife.

Spinning on the spot to stare at the blond, Ichigo frowned deeply, “I... I didn't tell you that last night.” He said dumbly.

“I know.” A sympathetic smile, “Aizen's rules really don't change much, huh.”

“How did you...” He trailed off in disbelief at the only reason that made sense.

“I told ya, Ichigo. The Visored went through a lot of shit thanks to that man, some of us more than others.” Shinji seemed relaxed but his shoulders were tight, “He was my Fukutaichou for a long time, but unlike everyone else I was not entirely blind to what he really was.”

“He always said he loathed you... Everything about you. Your attitude, your unwillingness to open up to him, the fact that you were always over cautious. He hated the fact that out of everyone _you_ had an inkling.”

“Mm. The feeling was entirely mutual.” There was a sharp puff, “I made the mistake of placing a bet with him, one which was bound with Kidō and therefore impossible to back out of. It was foolish, blind, idiotic.”

“What was the bet?” Ichigo found himself asking, despite not being sure he wanted to know.

With a reluctant chuckle, Shinji brushed his fingers through his hair, “A sparring session, winner takes all. Winner gets to request anything of the loser. I had planned on requesting him to reveal something, anything about himself that might explain the feeling of uncertainty I got whenever he was around but... He had long hidden his true strength from me.”

“He won the fight, and the bet.” The sunrise haired Shinigami realised.

“Correct. Perhaps ya ain't a complete airhead after all.” It was a half hearted jibe as the Visored clicked his tongue, “You know what he's like, I'm sure ya can guess what he asked for.”

“I... I'm not sure. I mean he said he hated your guts...”

“He wanted to see me weak, pathetic and utterly undone at his hands.” The venom in his voice took Ichigo by surprise, “I wish I could say it was just that one time, that the bet was completed and never spoken of again. But...”

“He made you want it more.” He said quietly, meeting Shinji's gaze awkwardly, “In his own sick way he made you feel special, important... Wanted. And you got addicted to the feeling. Addicted to him. Like you couldn't function without it. Without him. Without that... Feeling.”

“I see you understand better than I originally expected.” Shinji's voice had returned to its normal carefree tones, “That's why I'm warning ya, Ichigo... When it comes to that battle, when it comes to the moment you face him. He will use every trick, every manipulation and every memory you have of him to make you pause. Just one second of hesitation and it will be over. He can smell weakness like a dog smells a bone. But it won't just be you he's targetting... It'll be your Hollow too.”

Ichigo gulped involuntarily at his words, his body slumping a little as he glared at the ground, “How do I stop him getting in my head? For the longest time he was the only person in there at all... He has all the keys to all the locks and... What if my anger isn't enough to stop him?”

“I wish I could give ya the answers you need, kid. I didn't manage to kick him out of my head until it was too late, and my friends had fallen at my feet... Dying because of him... Hollowfied because of him... And because I hadn't been able to see beyond the mask he wears.”

“Do the others know? About you two?” He asked.

“The bare minimum. Enough for them to understand why I'd kill him with my bare hands, but not enough for them to hate me.”

“And Urahara-san?”

“Who knows what that man is aware of.” Shinji shrugged and slowly broke into a smile, “Look, Ichigo. I may not know shit about stopping him from getting what he wants, but I do know that you have a lot of allies. Maybe, if you lean on them when you need them the most and let them see for you... You'll do better than I did.”

“Do I get to count you among that number?”

Chuckling to himself as he tugged his flat cap on, the Visored shrugged, “Kid, I liked ya the moment you walked up to me and asked who the fuck I was. You've got balls. But, if you want a real answer to that question... Stop Aizen, and I'll follow you wherever you fucking go.”

Ichigo smiled sheepishly and scratched his head, “Well... I've never been one to shy away when I want to know something. As for Aizen...” He looked away thoughtfully, “I'm gonna give it everything I've got.”

“That's good enough for me.” Shinji clapped him on the shoulder, “Come on, let's go and eat. Before Hiyori finishes it off.”

The last of the weighty atmosphere vanished with that and Ichigo laughed as he hurried after him, scrambling up the ladder eagerly as his stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of food.

* * *

After eating, the Visored once again left Urahara's store and exhausted from his training Ichigo retired to his room early. He half collapsed onto the futon and considered everything that had happened over the day. It had been enjoyable. First his sparring match with Byakuya, and then the intense work of learning to use his mask.

His conversation is Shinji stuck in his head like a broken record. The realisation that he hadn't been Aizen's first and only victim, the realisation that he hadn't been the only man manipulated sexually and physically by him. It was sickening. Aizen was sickening.

“ _ **Yer tellin' me.”**_ It was the first time Shiro had properly spoken since surrendering control, it took Ichigo by surprise, as did the grim tone of his Hollow's voice.

However, Ichigo was saved the trouble of replying as he heard the door open, he looked around and his smile warmed as he saw Byakuya lingering in the doorway once again. Their eyes met and an unspoken permission passed between them as the nobleman entered and locked the door behind him.

“I thought you would be sleeping, you had a busy day.” Byakuya stated as he sat down beside the strawberry.

“Believe me, I feel like I could sleep for a week but...” He trailed off and pulled a face.

“Things on your mind?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, rubbing his neck thoughtfully, “And then Shiro finally broke his silence. He didn't say much, but it's a start!”

“I'm glad to hear it.” There was a small smile.

“Are you alright after our fight today? Not too many bruises I hope.” He flashed a cheeky grin.

The Kuchiki heir snorted, “Please, you barely actually touched me. You spent all your time trying to prove you could... Ah, you mean my pride. No bruises there, only satisfaction at your growing capabilities.”

Ichigo flushed across his nose and cheeks, “Thank you. I wondered whether I should... You know? Go as far as I did but then I realised... You were going all out. Renji told me once that your Bankai increases in speed when you control it with your hands. I'm honoured that you went so far for me.”

“Honoured?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Ichigo... I am the one who is honoured. To witness your growth. Your strength. To have the opportunity to continue guiding you as best I can. When I think about how far you've come... Everything you've been through and everything you've done to keep fighting... How can I be anything other than proud and honoured?”

Fidgeting, the strawberry released a small chuckle before he rolled onto his knees and shuffled as close as he could, cupping the nobleman's face in his hands as he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss on his mouth. He could still taste the faint scent of jasmine tea lingering on his lips. They were soft. Like petal blossoms.

He felt Byakuya's arms encircle him, pulling him closer, pulling him into his lap. The small moan that left his lips at their sudden closeness, his hands down the nobleman's neck and around his shoulders. His fingers dug into the satin soft material of the other man's shihakusho as he clung to him, the first warm dregs of arousal fuzzing around the edges of his awareness.

His feelings seemed to be reciprocated as he felt the world shift, his back landing softly on the futon as Byakuya hovered above him. Ichigo groaned, his fiancé's teeth traced his cheek and jaw teasing as Ichigo bit his lip and purred in response as his eyes fluttered closed. A stuttering gasp escaped him as the nobleman's lips descended down his chin and throat.

A sudden panicked cry burst free as those lips touched his scar, Ichigo's eyes flying wide as his body flooded with an icy chill he couldn't explain. He scuttled back, fleeing Byakuya's embrace to the safety of the room's corner. A sweat had broken out across his skin as his hands flew to his throat, nails digging in around the scar that lingered.

“I-Ichigo?!” The nobleman looked just as stunned as he immediately tried to move closer to comfort him.

The strawberry threw up a hand, trying to silently beg him to stay back. He could barely speak, he knew he couldn't handle his lover coming near him at the moment. The choking feeling of his entire world suffocating him was too much. Too soon. Too frightening. He couldn't breathe.

The door flew open at that moment, the lock shattering beneath the force of Urahara's bare foot as the blond half flew into the room. Ichigo had barely realised that once again his reiatsu was shaking the very walls of the man's home.

“What the-” Urahara's eyes moved from Byakuya to Ichigo, “What's going on in here?”

Ichigo flinched, teeth clenched as his hands fell from his throat and instead wrapped around himself as he tried to hold in the bitterly sickened feeling in the pit of his stomach as he forced his reiatsu back under his control, a shaky breath escaping him as the walls stopped shaking. His head was hung low, he couldn't bare their looks of pity.

“I... I'm sorry...” He said, his voice sounded so quite and breathless, like each word was a gasp for life giving air.

“Ichigo...” Byakuya had slowly risen to his feet, “It's not... It's not your fault...”

His teeth were biting together so hard he could hear them grating, his body quivered as for the briefest of moments he saw emerald green eyes full of loathing and malice. That harsh, violent touch. Teeth sinking into his shoulder, rending flesh and muscle from bone. The cold sting of Murciélago biting into his throat.

“Kurosaki-san?” Urahara's voice was gentle as he walked further into the room, resting a hand on Byakuya's shoulder before he cautiously edged closer.

“I... I should... I should have...”

Why was it so hard to string a sentence together?!

“Kurosaki-san, listen to me. Whatever you've seen, whatever you've felt... You are safe within these walls. No one can harm you here.” The blond slowly crouched down in front of the strawberry, shocked by how much heat was radiated from his body, “Please look at me, Kurosaki-san. Let us put to bed what haunts you.”

“N-No... I can't... I can't...” He gulped.

“Why not, Kurosaki-san? It is just myself and Byakuya-san here. You have no need be afraid.”

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as chest tightened and he felt the sting of tears rising, “I should... I... I should have... Killed him...”

“Killed who?” The blond blinked in surprise.

There mere thought of his name tasted like poison dripping down the back of his throat, the scar burning white hot as if awakened by the mere memory of its' creator. He flinched as he felt Urahara's touch, a hand on his shoulder seemingly oozed comfort.

“You don't mean...” Byakuya's voice was strangled.

“Ulquiorra.” He spat with venom, “I should have killed him! I should have been able to... But instead... And then when Shiro rose in my place he could have easily done it. He could have torn him apart... With his bare hands... Limb from limb... But he didn't. Because of me... Because I asked...”

“Kurosaki-san look at me.” Urahara's voice was firmer, more direct.

“... I asked him to make it painful... Told him to drag it out... To make him suffer... Why didn't I ask him to just... Why did I let him live?! Every second he continues breathing... It's an insult! I should have...”

“Ichigo!”

Gaze snapping up suddenly, he was certain it was the first time he had ever heard Kisuke Urahara raise his voice at anyone. It had the necessary effect and the strawberry's mouth fell open in surprise as he stopped shaking.

“That's better.” The blond's tone was soft again as he offered an apologetic smile, “Listen to me, whether you allowed him to live or not, what Ulquiorra Cifer did to you won't easily be forgotten. In life, or in death, it will haunt you regardless. The only person who can master that fear now, is you, Kurosaki-san.”

His cheeks reddened with embarrassment as he slumped, hands hitting the floor as he fell forwards and let out a long breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, “Fuck...”

“Try to take comfort in the knowledge that you are stronger than you were back then. Even if by some miracle he reached you, you would be able to bat him aside with a single flick of your finger.” The former Taichou rested his hand on top of Ichigo's head, “Maybe he should have died for what he did to you, maybe whatever existence he has been left with is punishment enough. No one can truly say.”

“I'm so sorry.” Ichigo whispered, lifting his head slowly as he peered over at Byakuya, “I'm so... So sorry...”

“I never want to hear you apologising for something you cannot control.” Byakuya's voice was firm but not unkind, there was a reluctant sadness in his expression.

“I'll give you both some space... I'll fix the lock in the morning.” Urahara got to his feet and smiled comfortingly at both men before retreating from the room.

There was a moment of awkward and disjointed hesitation between them before Ichigo shot across the room and threw his arms around Byakuya's shoulders, face buried in the man's chest. The nobleman's arms were immediately coiled around him in return, holding him as close as was physically possible.

“Ichigo, please listen to me and believe me when I say this.” Byakuya's voice was soft against his ear, “I do not blame you. I do not expect you to be unmarked by your experience. But above all I do not expect you to put yourself in a position which will make you uncomfortable. Do you... Understand?”

“Think so.” He mumbled glumly.

“Then let me be clear. Beyond what I know to be safely within your comfort zone, such as kissing and laying together, I will do no more than that until you are entirely confident that you are ready. I know, as you do, this is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of your own comfort within your own mind. And I am willing to be as patient as you need.”

“Thank you.” Ichigo swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, “I feel like a fool...”

“You are not a fool, you have never been a fool. You and your reactions are entirely normal given the trauma you went through. Try not to think too badly of yourself.”

“You're stupidly understanding sometimes.” He pulled away slowly and looked down, pouting faintly, “Thanks.”

“I love you Ichigo, and I will be here with you no matter what.”

“I love you too Byakuya.”

Ichigo hissed as a spike of cold hard pain shot through the back of his skull like a lightning rod, sending him to his knees without warning. His eyes widening as the world turned upside down and he was swallowed whole by the last lingering cradle of Shiro's memories as an Espada.

* * *

Ichigo's eyes opened with a start and he found himself staring up at the ceiling. He wasn't sure how much time had passed but his body felt stiff and heavy. With a jolt he recalled the reason for his faint and sat up sharply, letting out a grunt of discomfort at the dull ache in his muscles.

“Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime's voice was the one that reached him first between the exclamations from various different people, only because she was closest to him.

He glanced around, seeing Renji and Rukia on his left hand side while Orihime, Byakuya and Urahara sat on his right. He blinked a few times, noticing Yoruichi, Tessai and Ishida near the back of the room.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Are you alright?” Byakuya's concern reached him.

“Yeah... Sorry... Must have frightened the shit out of you.” He blinked away the last remnants of sleep and swallowed hard, “I... Got hit by the last of Shiro's memories and must have passed out from the overload. But, listen that's not what's important!”

“Of course it's important, idiot!” Rukia snapped.

“Listen to me!” He barked back, “Aizen told Shiro his plans!”

Silence followed for a moment before Yoruichi stepped forwards, “Plans? Beyond taking over Hueco Mundo?”

“Oh his plans are vastly larger than that.” The strawberry breathed, “He's subjugated the Hōgyoku, merged with it. With its power he plans to... Gain entrance to the dimension where the Soul King lives. He's going to make an Ōken.”

“How would he even know how to do that...” Byakuya asked, glancing at Urahara and Yoruichi, “Is it even possible?”

“It is.” Urahara replied, rubbing his chin.

“He's going to use Karakura town.” Ichigo stated.

“He had a wealth of time to learn from the Archives, to find information on how to create the Ōken...” The blond Shinigami sighed deeply, folding his arms in an uncharacteristic display of stress, “It is important we get this news to Kyōraku as soon as possible.”

“Do you have any idea how long it will be before he makes his move, Ichigo?” Byakuya asked, tilting his head.

“Three months... No, that was when he told Shiro about it.” Ichigo shook his head, clearing his thoughts before he released a reluctant groan of, “A month.”

“A month?!” Renji exclaimed, “We can't sit around and do nothing then... We've barely three weeks to arrange counter measures!”

“Renji is right.” Byakuya agreed, touching his fingers to his lips in thought, “The Senkaimon have not yet been reopened. We have no chance of reaching Soul Society that way.”

Urahara released a long sigh, “While the entire 'grid' is in lock down I can't open my own personal one for you. Undoubtedly Kurotsuchi will have worked out a way to block signals from any Garganta that have previously been opened, so that is also out of the question.”

“Fuck.” Renji hissed, rubbing his face in thought.

Ichigo glanced between them, their individual concern was easy to see. The news he'd brought was possibly the worst possible. Even while they knew Aizen's plans... As long as they couldn't warn the rest of Soul Society it was as useful as chopsticks in a soup bowl.

There had to be a way. There had to be. It was right in front of him, he knew it! But... What?!

His eyes widened in realisation and before he knew it he was on his feet, “Urahara-san! You said Kurotsuchi Taichou would most likely have blocked pre-existing Garganta, right?”

“Yes, Kurosaki-san.”

“Then what about an entirely new one?” His lips stretched into a wide grin as he pointed at himself.

The blond was staring at him, eyes narrowed in thought, “Mm...”

“Do you actually know how to open one of those things?” The Division Six Fukutaichou questioned sceptically.

“Yeah... I do, or... Shiro does.” The strawberry said simply, looking back at Urahara, “What do you say?”

“It could work, Kurosaki-san. But your concentration will need to be impeccable if you are to reach Soul Society.”

“Urahara-san,” Ichigo's expression turned serious in a heartbeat, “Karakura town is in danger. The lives of my friends are in danger. I don't need any better focus than that! I can do this!”


	70. Judgement Of The Kuchiki Clan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and Byakuya, followed swiftly by Renji, Rukia and Yoruichi, finally break out of the Garganta safely, arriving promptly in the courtyard of Division One where they are greeted by several familiar faces. After a debrief with the new Sou-Taichou, the group return to the Kuchiki Estate for a well deserved rest, only to find a snake making good use of Byakuya's absence.

The darkness was a familiar sight, consuming and enveloping, all except for the brilliant pale blue reishi pathway which stretched out from beneath Ichigo's feet. He was moving at a brisk jog, with the black cat form of Yoruichi perched on his shoulder.

“I can't believe how much he's changed.” Byakuya heard Renji mutter from behind him.

The noble glanced around curiously towards the redheaded Shinigami, “What do you mean?”

Renji almost flinched, apparently not expecting his comment to be heard, he spluttered, “Well... Ichigo lead the way through the Garganta to Hueco Mundo... He could barely muster a path safe enough for him to use, let alone the rest of us. Chad nearly fell to his doom at one point because it snapped under his feet.”

Eyebrows rising at the explanation, Byakuya turned his attention forwards again, taking a moment to inspect the path beneath his own feet. There were no weaknesses, no fractures. It was perfect. And Ichigo was currently speaking rather animatedly with Yoruichi, who had opted to join them on their journey back to Soul Society. Which meant his concentration wasn't even focused on what he was doing. It was a subconscious action.

“His growth is terrifying really.” Rukia breathed, as if sensing her brother's thoughts, “Do you think he will ever stop getting stronger, Nii-sama?”

The Kuchiki heir's first reaction was to rebuke her for such a question, it was illogical at best, and yet he bit his tongue to silence the voice which would have followed, staring at his fiancé's back as a more honest answer came forth, “I don't know. I suspect, as unbelievable as it may be, that he would do whatever it takes to gain greater power if his loved ones were in danger from a foe he couldn't defeat at his current level.”

“I wonder if it is because he was originally a Human.” Renji thought aloud, “Maybe it makes him more... Absorbent of power.”

“Perhaps.” Byakuya resisted the urge to shrug, “Or perhaps that was the true power the Hōgyoku gave him. Never ending pools of power.”

“Does it scare you, Nii-sama?”

“Scare me?” He frowned down at the smaller Shinigami.

Rukia bit her lip, considering her words carefully before she spoke, her eyes trained on Ichigo's form, “Someone as strong as that... Soul Society could deem him a threat or, in a bizarre twist of fate, the Royal Guard might call upon him.”

“Why would either of those things scare me?” He asked, “If Soul Society deem him a threat, I shall do whatever is within my power to overturn their decision. If the Royal Guard decides they could make use of his power, I would rejoice with him and celebrate his promotion. He has been through so much, Rukia, for him to live his life as his chooses... Is all I could ever desire of him.”

“Perhaps Ichigo is not the only one who has changed dramatically.” Renji flashed the noble a grin.

“I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean, Abarai Fukutaichou.” Byakuya shot him a stern look, but it was softened by the tiniest of quirks at the corners of his lips.

“Hurry up you three, or we will be leaving you behind.” The deep baritone of Yoruichi's cat form called out to them, “The exit is right ahead. I suspect we will have a welcoming committee.”

“I'd be more worried if we didn't considering how I left.” Ichigo muttered, “Fuck knows what they are going to do when they see me like this.” He waved a hand towards his altered form.

“They won't attack on sight.” Byakuya stated calmly as he caught up and began walking at his fiancé's side, looking right ahead towards the brightness which began to stretch out before his very eyes.

“Well, fingers crossed.” The strawberry muttered, tangling his fingers with his lover's and giving a gentle squeeze.

They broke through the barrier only seconds later, bursting forth into the familiar sights of Seireitei. Immediately recognisable as the barracks of Division One, the five of them were surrounded by members of the Stealth Force, Soi-Fon at their head with her Zanpakutō already in Shikai and pointed towards them.

Byakuya saw the woman's confusion as she scanned his face, and then Ichigo's, Renji's and Rukia's before settling on the fluffy form of her former Taichou, “Y-Yoruichi-sama? What is the meaning of this?”

“I think we can dispense with the formalities, Soi-Fon Taichou. Please stand down.” Another voice said, familiar in it's relaxed tones and yet just a little harder than it used to be.

Looking around sharply, Byakuya felt relief coil inside his chest at the sight of Kyōraku approaching them, flanked by Nanao and Ukitake. The man looked almost exactly the same as he recalled, straw hat and pink kimono still in place, but there was no excusing the new weariness which seemed to weigh down his shoulders, the shadows that made his eyes seem older. Such was the pressure of being Sou-Taichou.

“Welcome back, Kurosaki-san.” The new Sou-Taichou's eyes were fixed on the strawberry, clearly assessing the change to his appearance, “I see your mission was finally a success. Come, we'll go somewhere quiet and talk everything over.”

* * *

Sitting back slowly, Ichigo rubbed his forehead, “That's everything, more or less. Earlier on this morning I finally got up to speed with the last bits of my Hollow's memories and discovered that Aizen's planning to use the population of Karakura town to create an Ōken, so that he can break into the Soul King's Palace, kill him and take control. That's why we rushed back, we've only got a month to prepare some kind of retaliation, there was no way we could wait for the Senkaimon to open again.”

Kyōraku made a noise at the back of his throat, eyes closed and fingers pressed together against his lips, deep in thought as he seemed to mull over everything he had been told, “Admittedly, we began to fear all of you had perished in Hueco Mundo. When the two month mark hit... I was considering the possibility that we would have to find a new Division Six Taichou, on top of Division Three, Five, Eight and Nine. I'm relieved that isn't the case.”

“But this business with the Ōken...” Ukitake folded his arms, frowning deeply, “It is extremely worrying. To think Aizen would go this far. Are you sure he still intends to go through with it? If your story is true, he decimated his own Espada. He will have little to no backup.”

“He doesn't need backup.” Byakuya muttered, “He is vastly stronger than we initially thought. Even more so now he has subjugated the Hōgyoku. With or without an army of Arrancar to support him, his attack will happen.”

“It's troublesome...” The former Taichou of Division Eight opened his eyes slowly, “And what of you, Kurosaki-san? By your own admission the reason it took so long for you to return was because you returned to Aizen's side. Ukitake and I were understanding last time we discovered your affiliations... But can we be truly certain you are no longer serving him this time?”

“There is no proof I can give you... Apart from my word.” The strawberry replied honestly, dabbing his tongue across his lips, “As you know, I turned on him well before the events of Sôkyoku Hill, and it was only possible because of Byakuya's help. What happened in Las Noches wasn't me. But it will also never happen again.”

“How can you be so sure, Ichigo-kun?” Ukitake asked, his voice wasn't at all accusing, it held genuine concern and curiosity within its depths.

“As I explained, I have my Hollow's respect and have proven that I am rightfully in control, which means I can't lose control again. Literally, even at the risk of my own life I physically can't force my Hollow to take over. We're... Synergized.”

“I believe you.” Kyōraku said quietly as he rose from his chair, hands resting on the desk as he considered his words, “As you know, Ukitake and I broke you out of Division Two because we were dissatisfied when Yama-jii refused to send rescue for Byakuya-san... And despite the personal risk involved by taking things into your own hands, Kurosaki-san, Abarai-san, Kuchiki-san... You succeeded. And in so doing, were able to bring us a lot of information that will be of great use.”

“We couldn't have done it without the help of Ichigo's Human friends, Kyōraku Taichou.” Rukia said gently.

“Indeed, they sound formidable, we are fortunate that you have such unique friends.” Ukitake mused, “Still, as Ichigo-kun appears to be somewhat unique himself, it is oddly fitting.”

“I can't really argue with that.” The strawberry chuckled faintly, eyes softening slowly as he began to relax.

“I will call an urgent meeting later today, if possible I would like you to attend Byakuya-san and recount your version of events. I believe we should inform the other Taichou of everything we know, we must all be on the same page if we are to win against Aizen.” Picking up his straw hat thoughtfully, the man sighed, “Before I dismiss you however, there is one last thing we must speak of. But I require your word that it will not leave this room.”

“Of course.” Byakuya said instantly.

Ichigo nodded, “I swear it.”

Only after Yoruichi, Rukia and Renji had also sworn themselves to silence did Kyōraku speak again. He seemed troubled, each word spoken weighing heavier than the last as if he was taking a painstakingly long time to consider them.

“Kurosaki-san, I hope you will recall that Ukitake and I mentioned that Yama-jii was not behaving entirely like his usual self?”

“Yes I remember. It was part of the reason you wanted to get me out of Soul Society.” He nodded again.

“Correct. Correct...” There was a stagnant pause before he hummed, “I fear our instincts were far closer to the mark than we realised. As you know, Yama-jii and Sasakibe Fukutaichou were assassinated in your absence...”

“Yes... I'm very sorry for your losses.” The younger Shinigami frowned deeply, “I swear on my life, I had no idea there was an assassin in Seireitei still. As far as I was aware, I was the only one... I didn't even know about Grimmjow until Sôkyoku Hill.”

“Please do not concern yourself, Ichigo-san.” Ukitake smiled sadly, “We are not accusing or blaming you for this.”

“There are certain details concerning Yama-jii's and Sasakibe's deaths which we have not openly discussed with anyone besides Unohana Taichou. Naturally, she examined their corpses upon discovery so there was no way of keeping it a secret.” Kyōraku took a breath and stared out of the window for a long moment, “It appears that both the Sou-Taichou and his Fukutaichou were dead for around two and a half months. Placing the time of their assassinations just before Byakuya-san was kidnapped.”

“What?” The Kuchiki heir's eyes were wide with disbelief, “But... There were Taichou meetings as normal...”

“Yamamoto was at the meeting after Kuchiki Taichou was taken!” Renji exclaimed, “How is that possible?!”

“I know it is confusing...” Ukitake clasped his hands behind his back, “However, it is entirely true. The corpses we found... Had already gone through several stages of decomposition.”

“How?” Rukia's voice was little more than a squeak.

“We aren't entirely sure, or at least I wasn't until Ichigo-san explained what happened in Hueco Mundo. The Espada you defeated, Aaroniero... He had shape shifting powers.” The white haired Taichou was frowning faintly, “Well, I wonder if perhaps our assassin has similar abilities. Allowing him to murder a target while simultaneously taking their appearance to take their place.”

Ichigo gulped hard, “If that's true... Such a Hollow would be monstrous to track down. They could be anyone... Have there been any more casualties that we know of?”

“None confirmed.” Kyōraku stated, “At present only those within this room, and Unohana Taichou, are aware of our suspicions. However, it would explain why Yama-jii was acting a little differently to normal, and it would explain the state of the corpses we found. As soon as they were discovered the assassin went to ground, no sightings since...”

“But...” The strawberry paused, “If he was taking on Yamamoto's form and Sasakibe's form there must have been times when the two were together. Which potentially means some kind of cloning ability as well.”

“We had considered that possibility.” Ukitake confirmed, “It is imperative no one outside this room learns what we have discussed. If we are correct, if the assassin is a Hollow capable of taking forms and duplicating their body we must be incredibly careful in our investigation.”

“Of course.” Byakuya said instantly, “If there is anything we can do in the meantime please feel free to lean on us all.”

“You have our gratitude.” Kyōraku offered a small strained smile, “In the time being, I suggest the four of you head home, and get some proper rest. Yoruichi-san, if you wouldn't mind staying I would like to discuss something further with you.”

Ichigo rose to his feet alongside Byakuya, Renji and Rukia, and together they left the man's office, making their way through Division One in silence. His mind was alive with questions, doubts, worries... He couldn't believe how understanding Ukitake and Kyōraku had been, despite them having known about his past it was still a gamble for them to trust him so much. But... His true anxiety lay with Aizen's assassin.

“A shape shifting Hollow...” He said under his breath.

In none of Shiro's memories had Aizen ever mentioned such an assassin. He was clueless, in the dark. He hated it. Aaroniero had been bad enough, but this Hollow... This assassin... Somehow they were strong enough to kill Yamamoto. That alone was terrifying. How could anyone be that powerful? How could they remain hidden for so long?

“Let us retire to the mansion for now.” Byakuya announced as the vast gates closed behind them, “I believe we could all do with a little homely comfort after everything. And once there we can talk in safety.”

Smiling at the idea of finally resting back against plush cushions and plump seating, Ichigo reached out and took Byakuya's hand in his own, linking their fingers comfortably as they strolled through Seireitei together, Rukia and Renji just behind them. He forced his concerns aside for the time being.

There was something incredibly liberating about being back, while the air was a little less dense with reishi, and the ground strangely hard compared to the familiarity of Hueco Mundo's sand, it felt for the first time like Ichigo could truly consider Soul Society his home. He was still a Human at his core, but his body and mind was entirely Shinigami, and his soul... His soul was a blend of everything that made him who he was. Human, Hollow, Shinigami.

“You look happy.” Byakuya commented quietly.

“I am.” He dared to admit, “I spent so long wanting to understand why I had no memories, why I had no feelings, and for years I believed the only way I would find those answers was to help Aizen. But you were right, when you told me he was making it worse and not better. I'm not one to believe in predetermined fate, but... It feels like someone had a hand in guiding me to you. Because sure enough, from the moment I joined Division Six my life changed, I changed.”

“I often find myself wondering if the Soul King gives us all little nudges in the right direction. Perhaps to him we are pawns that need guidance, or a gentle reminder of where we are meant to be going. It's a nice thought, to believe he pushed me towards you, and you towards me.” The raven haired Taichou smiled faintly.

“I never used to believe he existed, you know? Aizen was so sure the heavens were empty, that no one was watching over us.” The strawberry chuckled quietly.

“And what do you believe now?”

Looking skywards, and allowing a small sigh to escape him as he felt the warmth of the sunlight on his face, he allowed a smile to grace his lips, “I'm fortunate enough to have lived lives in all three worlds, and to remember them. I don't think something as beautiful as life and death could have appeared from nowhere, without some kind of... Helping hand.”

“I used to think that beauty was upholding tradition and defending one's pride,” Byakuya looked up as well, watching the few spattered clouds drift by, “I didn't stop to truly see the beauty of the world around me until I met someone who was equally blind to it.”

“If you two get any more sentimental I'm going to start mistaking you for Ukitake and Kyōraku.” Rukia giggled, grinning at her brother and her best friend.

“If our relationship lasts as long as theirs has... I'll be a very happy man.” Ichigo replied coyly, smirking as he watched the smaller Shinigami's eyes widen, “What? You didn't know they were an item?”

“Wait... Really?” Byakuya asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What, you didn't know either?” Ichigo frowned, “Renji, you knew right?”

“Uh... No...” Came the confused reply from the redhead.

“Seriously?” The strawberry ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully.

“How do you even know something like that?” Rukia poked his ribs.

“Oh come on, how can you not know!” He exclaimed, “Spend ten minutes in a room with them, and really look at their body language. They are always close together, when seated they are almost always angled in such a way that they are facing each other more than anyone else present. They finish each other's sentences and know what the other means before anyone else. You don't get that kind of bond from just being best friends. That's a bond that goes soul deep. Look at how Kyōraku is whenever Ukitake has a relapse. He's torn apart by it.”

“Holy shit.” Renji breathed, “You're right.”

“At this point, I'm amazed that you are still capable of surprising me with your skills.” Byakuya sighed, “But yet again, I find myself surprised.”

“But why wouldn't they have said anything? Do you think anyone else has realised?” Rukia tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“Probably Nanao and Lisa, and maybe Kaien.” Ichigo shrugged, “I imagine things were different for them when they got together, if it was as long ago as I think it was... Two men being in a relationship probably wasn't viewed as acceptable behaviour.”

“Belligerent narrow mindedness.” Byakuya hissed.

“Quite.” He agreed, “It's probably become a habit to live their lives in secret.”

“That's... Kind of sad.” The redheaded Fukutaichou pouted.

“As long as they are happy, that's all that matters.” Another shrug, “Regardless... If Byakuya and I are together as long as those two have been... I'll consider sentimentality worthwhile.”

They were still chuckling by the time they reached the gates to the Kuchiki Estate, it didn't appear as if anything was out of place after their absence but Ichigo instantly groaned as he sensed Byakuya's annoying cousin within the mansion.

“What is he doing here?” He grunted.

“Your new found ability to sense reiatsu is going to take some getting used to, I'm certain you detected Norio a good second before myself.” Byakuya shook his head, “Nevertheless, I am pleased he is here... It will give me chance to deal with the remaining dents to the Kuchiki pride.”

“What do you mean? What dents?” Ichigo asked, frowning as he received no answer.

Byakuya was already striding up the pathway towards the entrance to the mansion forcing the other three to hurry after him, the lights were on despite the time of day and the closer they drew to the house the more of the ongoing commotion they could hear coming from behind the closed doors.

The strawberry wasn't sure what surprised him more, the familiar patronising tone of Norio's voice which was unexpectedly raised in a formidable shout, the harsh sound of a slap snapping against skin followed by a female crying out in pain, or the look of apocalyptic rage on Byakuya's face as he stormed up the steps and threw the front doors open with all the subtlety of a rampaging Hollow.

“You will not lay another hand on my staff.” The Kuchiki heir's voice was as cold as ice as narrowed steel eyes glowered murderously at Norio.

“Y-You're back.” The Head Elder spluttered, his hand was still raised, palm pink from the strike he had delivered.

“Excellent, you have eyes in your head.” Byakuya was rarely sarcastic towards anyone other than Ichigo, and more recently Renji, however it rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he strode forwards, crouching carefully beside the servant woman who was covering on the floor, “Momoru, you have my deepest apologies that this was allowed to happen. I will see to it that such an event never repeats itself.”

“B-Byakuya-sama!” She peered up, the red welt on her cheek standing out prominently against her pale skin but it appeared forgotten when she saw him, “We feared the worst! I cannot believe you have returned home at last!”

“You may go and inform the rest of the staff of my return, tell them that whatever orders they have previously received from Head Elder Norio are to be dismissed as folly uselessness. Once you have done that... Please retire to your quarters for the day and recover.” He helped her to her feet with all the tenderness of a gentleman and ushered her away, offering the smallest of smiles as she continued to mutter about how good it was for him to be home, even as she disappeared from sight.

“I thought I detected a flash of your reiatsu at Division One earlier today, I thought perhaps I was imagining things.” Norio's voice was as cold as ever.

The fact that Byakuya didn't response immediately made Ichigo's arm hair stand on end, the nobleman was so rarely rude to anyone... Even his own family. He couldn't help but notice that his fiancé's cousin has changed somewhat in the two months since he had last seen him, his waist length black hair had been cut above the shoulders; his lone kenseikan which had formerly rested at his left temple now sat atop his head; his blue eyes were weary and hesitant where once that had been icy and determined, and despite their age gap of four years the first spattering of silver hairs brushed through the other man's locks were prominent.

That wasn't all. Norio was clad in one of Byakuya's own ceremonial kimonos and his reiatsu filtered through the mansion like a stench of rotten fruit.

“How long after my capture did you move yourself into my home? How long did it take you to begin abusing my servants?” The current Kuchiki Clan Head hissed, eyes like daggers.

“It was believed you were dead, and that your party of rescuers had failed. The Council of Elders insisted that I fill the position until proof of your fate was discerned.” Came the sharp tongued response, Norio's jaw set in a tight line, “How did you escape Hueco Mundo?”

Ichigo cautiously walked into the entrance hall, flanked my Renji and Rukia on either side of his form, “I may have played something of a part in that.”

The Elder's eyes widened as he fixed his gaze on the strawberry, “ _You_.” He breathed, snarl forming on his lips, “I believed you dead, Kurosaki, with the amount of time you went missing for.”

“No such luck, I'm afraid.” He replied with a snort.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?” Norio breathed, looking him up and down.

“I told you once before, cousin,” Byakuya pursed his lips, “Ichigo is unique.”

“Indeed... Uniquely capable of escaping sticky situations.” The blue eyed Shinigami muttered venomously.

“Something you would know a great deal about.” The current Kuchiki Head retorted calmly, lifting his chin defiantly, “How much did Aizen buy you for, Norio?”

“What?” Ichigo, Renji and Rukia gasped in unison.

Eyes narrowed, Norio glared at his cousin, “How did you know?”

“The Arrancar were talkative.” A short answer.

“Tch, of course they were.” The Elder folded his arms, “My terms were simple. In your absence I would be named the next Head of the Kuchiki Household, in order to fulfil that role-”

“You would have to be cured of your infertility.” Byakuya finished for him, “So Aizen promised you a way to have children, so that you could continue the Kuchiki line in your own image.”

Ichigo recalled the man mentioning his infertility briefly when he had brought the Hell Butterflies for them to use at the Kuchiki Senkaimon, “That's why you helped us escape Soul Society! You knew Aizen wanted me to go to Hueco Mundo, so you gave us a helping hand.”

“I didn't expect Abarai and Rukia to join you, it was a bargain really... Getting rid of three of you for the price of one. Finally cleansing our Clan of common blood that should never have been allowed inside.” Norio's voice was like acid, spitting at each of them in turn.

“So you aided Ichigo in leaving Soul Society so he could launch his rescue mission, you allowed Espada to open a Garganta in Soul Society to allow them to kidnap me, you fed Aizen information about my engagement to Ichigo... Are there any other crimes I should be aware of before I bring judgement upon you?” The Kuchiki heir was surprisingly calm as he recited all he knew about Norio's actions.

“You have no power over me... No authority to pass judgement. _I_ have surpassed you Byakuya!”

Byakuya's back straightened and his eyes narrowed as his voice grew strong, “Norio Kuchiki,” he pointed at his cousin, the air seeming to weave with indiscernible reiatsu winding around every syllable, “You are a traitor not only to the Kuchiki Clan and her previous heads, but to the Kuchiki Council and her previous Elders. I accept your confession of assisted kidnapping; espionage; attempted murder and treachery upon the Goeti Thirteen in front of my witnesses. Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia Kuchiki, and Renji Abarai... For formality's sake I ask you to confirm your willingness to witness this judgement.”

“I, Rukia Kuchiki of the Kuchiki Clan, accept that I am a witness to this confession, to the crimes of the accused... And to the righteous judgement cast by my Clan Head.” Rukia spoke immediately, her eyes narrowed with determination as she glowered at Norio.

“I, Renji Abarai Fukutaichou of Division Six, accept that I am a witness to this confession... To the crimes of the accused, and to the righteous judgement of Kuchiki Taichou.” Renji sounded less certain, Ichigo could sympathise. It was a very formal position to be thrust into without warning.

The strawberry haired Shinigami tensed as their eyes came to rest on him and he sucked in a breath, “I, Ichigo Kurosaki Head of the Shiba Clan and Third Seat of Division Six, accept that I am a witness to this confession. To the crimes of the accused. And to the righteous judgement cast by Byakuya Kuchiki.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and lowered his head as he finished speaking. Norio's dislike for him had been immediate, the moment they had met the man had been venomous and loathing, and he couldn't help but wonder what had made him so bitter and twisted... That he would go so far and betray so many.

“Who do you think you are?” Norio growled, “You're the same arrogant little boy you were when we were kids, thinking you are better than me just because Sōjun was born first! If my father had been born a year earlier it would be me living here! Everything you own was handed to you on a silver platter just because of who your father was! He was pathetic, he could barely even serve on active duty!”

“You bastard.” Byakuya swallowed, “My father... Was a kind man, not a fighter by nature.”

“He was weak, sickly and unfitting of the position he held!” Norio sneered.

Ichigo tensed, eyes falling on Byakuya's shaking hands, he could feel the rage bubbling beneath the wall which had been raised. He could only imagine the pain his fiancé was feeling, to confront his own cousin as a traitor only to have his father's name smeared by Norio's malice.

“Bakudō 61: Rikujōkōrō.” Voice surprisingly even, Byakuya approached his cousin as the six shards of energy impaled him, sucking in a breath the current Division Six Taichou spoke, “You desire death, an easy escape from the crimes you committed. And it would be more than easy for me to deal death, however I believe such an action would only bring dishonour upon the shrines of my father and my late wife-”

“Oh stop with your smug superiority, no one cares, brat. Your pride has been shattered for decades.” Norio mocked.

“- As the current Head of the Kuchiki Household, I will enact my right to judgement. I find you guilty of the crimes you have confessed to. Guilty of aiding an enemy of the Goeti Thirteen. Guilty of espionage. Guilty of assisting in my own kidnap. And guilty of attempting to end the current bloodline of the Kuchiki Clan-”

“I should have ended you myself when I had the chance!” Norio snapped.

“- For the crimes committed, the crimes found guilty of and the crimes you have confessed to, I cast you out. Never again may you use the name Kuchiki. Never again may you step foot upon Kuchiki owned land or property. Never again may you take a position within this Clan. You will be struck from all records. You will be struck from all last will and testaments. You will be struck from this family-”

“You will lead this family to ruin! Mark my words! It will all crumble because of you!” Norio struggled against the Bakudō restraining him.

Byakuya reached out, unclipping the single kenseikan from his cousin's hair, inspecting it momentarily before he clenched it in his fist and shattered the refined material into little more than dust, “- I, Byakuya Kuchiki the twenty eighth Head of this Clan, banish you for all eternity and surrender you to the Goeti Thirteen so that they might also bring judgement against you for your crimes.”

Ichigo flinched as he heard a familiar crackle of Shunpo, his gaze snapped around in time to see Yoruichi arrive inside the mansion, followed by Soi-Fon. Neither women looked happy, and Ichigo quickly deducted that they had been listening to the conversation while hidden.

“Soi-Fon Taichou, Yoruichi Shihōin, I am entrusting this criminal to your care. See to it that all necessary procedure is followed. Should you require the testimonies of my witnesses, send for them later today.” Byakuya barely spared the women a glance before he began walking towards the grand staircase, “Rukia, Renji, Ichigo... Come. We were sent home to relax and recover after our experiences in Hueco Mundo. This lowlife dog will be dealt with by others.”

“Nii-sama...” Rukia hesitated for only a moment before she hurried after him, Renji following close behind her.

Ichigo however, lingered, looking at Norio as the man was bound and gagged properly, the strawberry released a small sigh, “If you think for even a moment that Aizen was ever going to uphold his end of the bargain and give you what you wanted then you're even more of a fool than you seem. He truly is the greatest manipulator out there. If it was just me you'd hurt, I might have felt sorry for you. But you hurt Rukia, and you hurt Byakuya. Turning on them because of your own pitiful pride. I wish you a long, healthy life, Norio, so that you may reflect on what you threw away.”

He watched the man's blue eyes narrow hatefully before they were concealed behind the same black material used to gag him before nodding to Yoruichi and Soi-Fon. Ichigo released a small breath and hurried up the stairs to rejoin his lover, and his friends.


	71. Meetings, Melancholy, Mirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling into life back in Seireitei, Byakuya smooths things over with the remaining Taichou and has a heartfelt talk with Renji. Ichigo experiences a traumatic flashback while he sleeps, but finds solace in the presence of his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Flash back of non-con

Byakuya released a small groan as he finally returned to the mansion. The Taichou meeting had been long and arduous, the main topics for discussion having been the news of Aizen's plans to create an Ōken, the risk to Karakura town, and finally revealing Ichigo's prior involvement with Aizen.

It was putting it mildly to say he had been anxious about the reaction such news would receive, but as it happened, his nervousness was unnecessary for the most part. It appeared that his fellow Taichou had been more than a little suspicious of Ichigo ever since the battle on Sôkyoku Hill. They had kept quiet, silently choosing to observe and monitor the situation.

While none of them were overly happy with the situation, when Kyōraku explained the entirety of the background story relating to Ichigo's involvement, there had been mutual expressions of disgust relating to Aizen's treatment of a child, and the ongoing experimentation which had followed. It was something which, to everyone's surprise, even Kurotsuchi expressed deep loathing for.

Closing his eyes, the nobleman stood in the entrance hall, where hours earlier he had banished his cousin for his crimes. Shaking away the cold clutch of memories, the noble found himself startled when he came face to face with his Fukutaichou.

“Renji, when did you achieve such skills in sneaking up on people?” He asked with a small twitch of his lips.

“Not sure, but I had a good teacher.” The redhead smiled warmly, leaning against the bannister, “How did the meeting go, Taichou?”

Silent as he slipped his haori off and draped it over his arm, the man let out a small breath, “It went well, all things considered. The Taichou are willing to overlook Ichigo's former involvement with Aizen, purely due to his more recent actions in the defence of Soul Society. They are convinced, at least somewhat, that he is now loyal to us. In terms of Aizen's plans for the Ōken, Kyōraku has sent Yoruichi back to Karakura to begin some preliminary preparations. For the next week at least, Urahara will be experimenting with ways to protect the town.”

“That's a relief.” Renji puffed, rubbing his forehead, “If anyone can come up with something it will be Urahara-san. He's the smartest Shinigami I've ever met.”

“I agree.”

Byakuya glanced at the clock across the hall, it was an antique time piece from the World of the Living, an article his father had brought back with him after one of his missions. The clock was a stained walnut veneer, the face was pristine white enamel with hand painted numbers of black ink, and the rhythmic sound of the swinging pendulum was one which resonated from his childhood. It was probably one of the only items in the mansion which had exclusively belonged to his father, besides the ceremonial marriage gown which remained stored in the attic.

“Would you care to join me for a cup of tea before I retire for the night?” The nobleman asked as he looked back at his Fukutaichou.

“I'd be happy to. I'll prepare it, you look as though you could do with sitting down, I'm sure it's been a long day for you Taichou.”

“Renji...” The nobleman sighed softly, “How many times must I remind you to call me by my name when we are within the mansion grounds.”

“And break the habit of a lifetime?” Renji rolled his eyes as they walked towards the kitchens, “It takes time to do that.”

Instead of responding, the raven haired Taichou sat down with a faint chuckle, allowing his Fukutaichou to deal with the drinks. Glancing towards the ceiling, the man quickly summarised from the reiatsu he could sense that Rukia was asleep in her old room, while his own room currently housed his slumbering fiancé.

“The hour is late, have you slept yet?” The nobleman asked.

“I stayed with Rukia until she fell asleep, I wanted to make sure she was alright.” Renji answered, bringing the silver tray over and sitting opposite him, “Then I came downstairs to wait for you.”

“Oh?” Byakuya watched as the tea was poured, taking his cup with a murmur of thanks, “I thought you would have stayed with her.”

“I didn't want to presume I'd be allowed to.”

Pausing at his Fukutaichou's reply, steel eyes lit up with amusement and a small laugh escaped him, “You think I failed to sense the pair of you together in Urahara's store?”

Renji's body stiffened instantly and his cheeks tinged pink, “Oh... I see... And I haven't been shredded by Senbonzakura yet?”

“Not yet.” Byakuya smirked faintly before he sipped his tea, “I saw how you tried to protect Rukia in the laboratory, how you tried to protect her when she contained the Hōgyoku. It is clear to me, now more than ever, that you have her best interests at heart. Your relationship has my blessing. This mansion will always have a room for you.”

Swallowing, the redhead paused, “Kuchiki Taichou... I love Rukia with all my heart. With your blessing, I'd eventually like to ask for her hand in marriage, though I was planning to wait until the war with Aizen is concluded.”

“You have my permission.” He replied softly, “And you have my consent for you to share her quarters when you stay here. On one condition.”

Renji's eyes couldn't have gotten any wider, and he hastily spoke again, “What is the condition?!”

Byakuya paused, taking a long sip of tea before he glared at the redhead over the rim of his cup, “If my sister falls pregnant before she is married, I will personally see to it that the child is your first and last.”

“That's... I mean to say...” The redhead stumbled over his words, slumping back in his seat sulkily before shooting a dark look at his Taichou, “Just because we shared a bed at Urahara's doesn't mean anything else happened. I'm not sure what you take me for, but I respect Rukia more than that. I have no intentions of... Of... Anything physical until after we're married. Just because _you_ can't keep your hands off Ichigo doesn't mean I'm incapable of doing so with Rukia.”

Blinking as his threat rebounded so spectacularly in the revelation of Renji's chivalry, it was Byakuya's turn to blush, though he did a better job at hiding it, “Duly noted.”

Renji laughed freely at that, his smile wide as he finished his drink, “I'm not judging, Ichigo's always garnered attention wherever he goes. I'm glad it is you he's settled down with. He makes you happy, and you make him happy. What else matters?”

Failing to conceal the smile that was roused by his words, the nobleman finished the last dregs of his tea as well, “Indeed. Things have worked out far better than I'd ever dared to hope.”

He rose to his feet and released a small stretch before he headed towards the door, looking forward to slipping into bed beside his fiancé, he hesitated with his hand on the knob and looked at Renji over his shoulder, “I'm glad you found it in your heart to forgive my coldness towards you. You have become a valuable friend to me, Renji, and it will be an honour to one day call you my brother-in-law. When that time comes, rest assured, I will fight at your side to allow the Council to permit your wedding.”

Looking startled at the heartfelt statement, the redhead swallowed back his usual cocksure attitude and bowed his head in respect, “I am glad you came to see me as someone you could rely on, and that you were able to see past my upbringing. Rest well.”

“Good night.” The noble murmured, sweeping from the room with his haori over his arm once again.

Byakuya shut his bedroom door behind him and rested a hand against the familiar wood, he released a sigh, body relaxing as the familiar scents and sensations of home washed over him. He turned and glanced towards the bed, contentment seeping into his features as he watched how Ichigo's chest rose and fell with the depth of his sleep. At last, that scowl was gone again. His strawberry haired lover looked peaceful, relaxed and unburdened.

Tossing his haori over the back of one of the chairs in the room, the nobleman began undressing, starting with his kenseikan and scarf. His fingers paused as they came to rest on his fingerless tekkō, they were the ones Harribel had given him and he felt a great swell of pity for whatever fate that woman had met as a result of her aiding their escape from Las Noches. He hadn't had chance to consider the Espada since their escape, everything had been so urgent and drastic, nerve racking and uncertain.

He cared little for the likes of Barragan, Ulquiorra or Nnoitra. The three of them were as dark, grim and uncontrollable as each other. But the others, Starrk, Harribel, Nelliel, Grimmjow, and Szayel had changed during the course of his imprisonment, they had showed that Espada, that Arrancar were capable of logical and emotional reasoning. They had showed him that they were not monsters to be feared or hated, he was certain in the right leadership coexistence would have been possible.

He decided, as he removed the gloves and his remaining garments, that once Aizen was dealt with he would return to Las Noches and search for survivors. It was all he could do to repay the kindness of those who had aided them.

Sliding into bed, the nobleman contentedly curled himself around Ichigo's slighter frame, arms encircling his tanned body protectively as he heard the younger Shinigami release the very faintest of sighs. Nuzzling into his neck and inhaling the delicate scent of his fiancé, the raven haired nobleman allowed himself to truly unwind, eyes slipping shut in the darkness of the room as sleep took him.

* * *

Ichigo grumbled in his sleep as he heard his name being called, the voice was distant and soft yet persistent and troubled. Seemingly determined to drag him from his rest, the strawberry began to wake.

As his eyes fluttered open, fully expecting to see the intricate details of Byakuya's bed chambers, and maybe even his dormant fiancé in bed at his side, he was instead surprised to find himself peering up towards the clear blue skies of his Inner World. A frown formed on his face, eyes focusing a little clearer as he sat up.

Getting to his feet, the Shinigami walked to the edge of the skyscraper he had appeared on, and glanced down towards the streets below, they still looked damp from the floods that had washed throughout the World while he had been hibernating, but the warmth of the sunlight was drying the lingering moisture away.

Zangetsu and Shiro seemed to be slumbering, he couldn't see them anywhere nearby. He couldn't help but wonder what voice had drawn him into his Inner World if that was indeed the case but...

There was movement to his right and he twisted to catch a glimpse of dark hair. His chest tightened with anxiety as he lost sight of the anomaly again, scowl deepening as he turned on the spot, going around in a tight circle.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a slow and steady breath to escape him. This was his Inner World. There was no one permitted inside that wasn't a part of his being. Save for Urahara's insane Kidō, but he was home in Seireitei. Urahara wasn't. So... He was alone. He was safe. He was...

Why was there sand under his hands? Why was there sand against his cheek?

Pain rippled across his scalp at the feeling of powerful fingers fisting in his hair, pressing him down. Holding him in place. His heart was thundering, his skin was bare. Where had his shihakusho gone? Why was he...

Teeth were ripping into his shoulder all over again, drawing blood and rending their way into layers of muscle. A reluctant screech was tearing itself from his lips. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't claw his way out, the sand was too fine. The grains too small. There was no leverage.

There was a hand clenched tightly on his waist, preventing even the smallest of movements. He was howling, infuriated at being caged like an animal. Screams were loud, Ichigo barely realised they were his own. It was painful. Just as pain as the first time.

Ulquiorra...

He could see his sword, he could reach it! He just had to wriggle forward a little bit... He just had to survive a few more minutes. But there was that hand around his ankle again, tearing him back. His body was spasming in agony, muscles torn and bruised and battered and... There was a sword at his throat. The steel pinching his skin, digging a groove. Cutting into him. Black and white lips against his ear.

Blood was running down his throat. Splashing against the sand. His heart was thundering so loudly against his sternum... He was sure it would break loose. He was going to die... Caged... Trapped... Alone... Frightened! He felt sick and humiliated... Disgusted... Small... So small...

“ _ICHIGO!”_

Ripped away from his Inner World with an almost painful jolt, Ichigo sat bolt upright in bed, panting harshly as his reiatsu momentarily crackled around him like a warning, only to fade away in lieu of the terrified expression of the raven haired Shinigami kneeling on the bed next to him.

The strawberry haired Shinigami gasped for breath, his gut churning as he struggled to free himself from the bedding, lurching across the room without a word as he flung to bathroom door open. He barely made it to the toilet before he heaved, fingers gripping the basin tightly as he threw up. He was quivering, sweating.

“I-Ichigo?” Byakuya was at the bathroom doorway, clearly hesitant about approaching him.

“I'm... I'm fine...” He gulped, flushing away his shame as he slowly got to his feet and splashed cold water over his face, “I just... I was...”

“You were tossing and turning, talking in your sleep... I tried calling out to you but you weren't responding.” The nobleman closed the distance between them and rested a gentle hand on Ichigo's back, “Are you truly fine?”

Tensing, the younger man looked away. He wanted desperately to fake it all away, pretend he was fine and move on. He didn't want to share his self disgust with anyone. But Byakuya knew him too well... Even if he let it drop, he'd only bring it up again later.

“I was in my Inner World.” Ichigo muttered, “A voice called out to me in my sleep, but Zangetsu and Shiro were both sleeping... I thought I saw... I thought...”

“Ulquiorra?”

He shivered at the sound of his name alone and bit his lip, “Yeah. I freaked out, closed my eyes and tried to calm down and then suddenly...” He let out a shuddering breath, “I was back there... In Hueco Mundo... Pinned down in the sand... And I still couldn't do anything... I was just as weak, just as frightened... Just as alone...”

Byakuya's eyes dropped to the scar on his fiancé's throat, it looked sore and irritated, “I wish I could take the pain and the memories away from you, but we both know I can't. All I can do, all I can ever do... Is tell you that you are not alone. I'm here. I'm here for you, and you can lean on me.”

“Do you think... Do you think I'd still feel this way if I'd killed him?”

“I don't know. I truly don't know.” The Kuchiki heir took a breath, “But I think you will drive yourself mad if you keep asking yourself that question.”

Ichigo scoffed quietly and nodded, “You're probably right...” He took a breath and finally began to relax, “What time is it anyway?”

Byakuya knew he was trying to change the subject, and decided to humour him, “Nearly ten in the morning.”

“Damn, I overslept.” He muttered as he plodded back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

The Kuchiki noble chuckled softly, perching beside him, “I think, after everything, you've earned a proper rest.”

“Mm, maybe.” Ichigo yawned, “What time did you get back last night? Did the meeting go well?”

“Late.” The other answered with a non-committal shrug, smiling almost immediately, “It went very well, the other Taichou are aware of your history but they are content with the knowledge you are firmly loyal to Soul Society now. And Urahara has been charged with finding a way to protect Karakura town, I'm sure Kurotsuchi will eventually assist him as well.”

Letting out a small puff of relief, the strawberry ran his fingers through the spiky tufts of hair atop his hair, “If anyone can find a way... It would be those two. Do you think they will be ready before the end of the month?”

“Undoubtedly.” Byakuya paused, glancing towards the window, “Though, I believe it would be wise to keep you away from Kurotsuchi for until he is brain deep in experiments with Urahara... He showed some unhealthy interests when your new form was explained last night. I do believe he would attempt a live dissection if given the chance.”

Ichigo shuddered, “Right, I'll be staying well away from Division Twelve then.”

“A wise choice, I fear.” Steel eyes seemed the laugh all by themselves, “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let us go and eat breakfast together, and then we can get cleaned up and head to the Division. I have some forms to fill in, in relation to recommending Renji for the Proficiency Test and having you promoted to Fukutaichou.” The Kuchiki heir rose from the bed again, pausing by one of the chairs to gesture to Ichigo's uniform, “Momoru cleaned it herself during the night, despite my orders for her to take the evening off... I think she is fond of you.”

“Momoru... She's the woman Norio hurt right?” The strawberry shuffled free from the bedsheets and stood up, stretching lethargically and strolling across the room, feeling his hair fan around him as he moved, barely concealing his nudity, “I'll make sure to thank her when I see her next.”

“She has been with me a long time, she served the Clan even while my grandfather was still alive.” he mused, “She was my nursemaid, as my mother died while I was still an infant.”

Pulling on his uniform as he listened, Ichigo let out a small breath, “No wonder you looked ready to murder him yesterday. How did you know... About his betrayal? I can't believe any of the Espada would have let that slip.”

Byakuya hesitated as he held his lover's hair up so he could dress easier, “You are quite correct, they never named him. I find it hard to believe they even knew his name. But they received regular reports from him. I was privy to some of those reports thanks to my friendship with the Espada. I had a great deal of time to simply think, and it was during that time that certain troubling events began to knit themselves together.”

“Oh?” He frowned curiously as they made their way from the room, walking down the stairs together as if it was the most normal thing in the world, which it was really, “What sort of events?”

“Initially, his hostility towards you despite learning of your noble heritage. On most occasions a Clan Elder would be overjoyed at the prospect of marriage between two high ranking nobles, however, Norio remained agitated by our relationship. In relation to that, it became clear to me during my time in Las Noches, that someone was feeding Aizen information. How else could he have learned of our engagement? It made sense, in that instance, that whoever was passing intelligence to Hueco Mundo was someone close to one or both of us. I highly doubted any of your friends would betray you, and I doubted any Taichou would betray me. Which left one unhappy truth.”

Ichigo stared as he sat at the dining table, murmuring words of gratitude as food was served by two attendants he had yet to learn the names of, “You figured all this out while captive?”

“I had little else to occupy my mind.” Byakuya chuckled softly, “As I said, I befriended some of the Espada, and I was able to pry for small pieces of information, while they knew little of any other conspirators in Aizen's plans besides Gin, Tōsen and yourself, they had some ideas themselves that there was someone else still lingering in Soul Society. Though... I find myself wondering if they knew of Aizen's assassin...”

Picking at his food as he listened, the strawberry hummed thoughtfully, “Still, making the jump from that to realising it was Norio... How were you so sure?”

“Starrk mentioned one day, quite by chance, that Aizen had offered someone a deal in Soul Society. In exchange for their assistance he would cure them of a fertility issue. The moment he spoke of it, I knew.” The raven haired Shinigami sipped his tea, shrugging slightly, “Norio was infertile from birth, an unwelcome defect in noble families, and one of the reasons he wouldn't be considered as an heir to the Clan unless something drastic happened to the main bloodline.”

“I see... So when we returned you must have sensed him here in the mansion, and it confirmed it.”

“Exactly.” There was a thoughtful pause, “You said yesterday that he assisted you in leaving Soul Society to rescue me... How did he help?”

“After Ukitake and Kyōraku broke me out of Division Two, we came here to use the Clan's Senkaimon. Rukia and Renji arrived just after I did. And then Norio came... He said had come to help and gave us Hell Butterflies. He even admitted that he hated you and I, but he wanted to help because we presented the best future for the Kuchiki Clan... I guess he was lying about his motives. He knew Aizen wanted me to go to Hueco Mundo, so he just gave me a nudge.” Ichigo tilted his head to one side, munching slowly at his breakfast.

“Hm. I suspect you are correct, he wanted you out of the way. As he said yesterday, getting rid of Renji and Rukia was an added incentive.” Steel coloured eyes narrowed, “Still... We survived Hueco Mundo, we returned alive and well. He failed in his task and has been punished accordingly. We need not dwell on it any longer.”

The strawberry swallowed, “I have to ask... What happened to him when he was taken away?”

“He was taken before Kyōraku, normally he would have been judged by Central 46 however they have not yet been replaced, making the Sou-Taichou the lead power in Seireitei at the moment.” Byakuya hesitated, glancing at Ichigo, “He has been imprisoned within one of the levels of the Central Great Underground Prison, in the depths of Division One. I am unaware of which level exactly, I merely know he is not in Shugo or Muken. He will never see the light of day again.”

Ichigo gulped, looking down at his plate glumly as he allowed his lover's words to wash over him, he felt a chill run across his skin and watched as the hairs on his arms stood to attention, “That could have been me.” He whispered without thinking.

“Ichigo...”

He looked up and faltered as he saw Byakuya's concerned expression staring back at him, “It's true though... For any number of reasons it could be me sitting in those cells right now. All it would have taken was for one thing to play out differently, whether it was Yamamoto's death or your willingness to forgive my... Previous occupation. Right now, right this minute, I could be in one of those cells next to Norio, wondering if Aizen would free me, or if I would rot there for eternity.”

“You are right.” The raven haired noble agreed reluctantly, “But let us be grateful that things have played out this way so far instead. I believe things happen for a reason more often than not. You have a purpose, Ichigo, Gin believed you were the only person capable of stopping Aizen and maybe that in itself will act as your true atonement.”

“Perhaps.” He muttered, looking out of the window with a small frown, “Regardless, I made myself a promise that I would stop looking back. I have to start focusing on the future, otherwise I'll never truly be free.”

“You've grown wise.”

Rolling his chestnut eyes, Ichigo finished his breakfast, determined to break free of his momentary melancholy, “Whatever. Let's get cleaned up and head out, as much as I love being here at the mansion... Part of me is pining to see the Division again.”

“I quite understand.” Byakuya smiled as he got to his feet, holding a hand out to his lover, “Perhaps once we are done at the Division we can pay a visit to Kūkaku, and begin preparations in having the Shiba Clan elevated back to its proper place.”

“I'd like that.”

* * *

Tending to paperwork in Division Six took far less time than either of them expected, Byakuya was swiftly able to fill out the paperwork to have Renji recommended for the Taichou Proficiency Test and it was soon sent off to Division One, along with the forms to have Ichigo made Division Six's Fukutaichou if Renji's application was accepted.

Before long, Ichigo and Byakuya were departing from the Division once again, walking leisurely through Seireitei side by side as they began their adventure of hunting down Kūkaku's current residence.

Expecting some funny looks due to his dramatic change of appearance, Ichigo wasn't disappointed. But there was far less fear than he had expected. He knew news travelled fast, but was it really possible for his fellow Shinigami to have been brought up to date on everything already? He wasn't truly concerned by it either way, he was long past being worried about the opinions of those around him, and no longer struggled to hold his head high.

He was, however, sure that they cut quite an intimidating presence. On the one hand: the cold demeanour of Byakuya Kuchiki, the strongest Kuchiki Head to date with one of the most well known Bankai in Seireitei, renown for his chilled exterior and frosty reception towards people in general. And on the other hand: the wild looking Ichigo Kurosaki, rumoured to have a dangerous temper and lack of respect towards authority, with his ripped shihakusho and powers akin to those of a Hollow.

Ichigo snorted under his breath, covering his mouth to silence a further outbreak of laughter as they broke free of Seireitei's walls and began venturing into Rukongai, “You know... I think the Division will have a fit if I become your Fukutaichou... Look at us. Polar opposites. Even more so than you and Renji were.”

The raven haired Taichou smirked faintly, “I had considered the possibility. And yet there is no one I would rather have fill the void Renji would leave behind.”

“I think you're going soft.” The strawberry grinned.

Byakuya shot him a playful glare, “Hardly. Renji... let's just say he leaves a Renji shaped hole wherever he goes.”

“I mean... I can't argue with that!” Ichigo stretched, throwing some of his wild hair over his shoulder as they strolled further and further away from the city, “I'm glad I met Renji. He kept me grounded for years, and I didn't even realise it.”

“He's loyal. Sometimes to a fault.”

“Aren't we all?” He quirked an orange eyebrow in amusement, shoving his hands into his pockets, “At least he's loyal to the right things, the right people.”

“True enough.” Byakuya agreed, smiling to himself as he considered his conversation with the redheaded Shinigami the night before, he soon smirked wickedly as they reached a clearing between the shacks of Inuzuri, “I just realised...”

“Hm?” Ichigo looked around innocently.

“I owe you a game of tag.”


	72. Shiba Is As Shiba Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reuniting with his cousin, Ichigo gets all the confirmation he needs that working to restore the Shiba Clan is the right path for him to take, and his resulting joy spurs him to take the plunge with Byakuya, and give into his carnal desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Flashback of non-con

Ichigo hugged his cousin tightly, still slightly out of breath from his race with Byakuya, he was nevertheless over the moon to have tracked Kūkaku down with relative ease. She looked well, if not a little tired, and a little naked without her tattoos.

“So, I guess you didn't need a ritual to hand over the role of Clan Head after all, little cousin Ichi.” She smiled brightly at him, inspecting his arms with interest.

Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, the strawberry chuckled, “I guess not. Sorry about that, it must have been a bit of a... Surprise.”

“Well, there is nothing like going to sleep one night with ink, and waking up the next morning without it.” The wild woman laughed heartily, “But I kind of prefer it this way, now we don't have to go through any of the stupid stuffy time-honoured shit.”

“Heavens above.” Byakuya breathed behind them, rolling his eyes at her distinct lack of tradition.

“You got a problem with that, Little Byakuya?” She narrowed her brilliant blue eyes at him, smirk stretching wide.

“Not at all.” He lied, staring her down with ease.

“I'm guessing Yoruichi dropped by and... Spoke to you about everything.” Ichigo sat down on one of the comfortable cushions on the floor, he could still sense the lingering residue of the Shihōin woman's reiatsu.

“Yeah.” Kūkaku sat opposite him, her expression momentarily troubled, “I was worried when I heard you had disappeared... Two months is a long time to spend in Hueco Mundo of all places.”

“Tell me about it.” The strawberry grunted.

“Are you... Both alright?” Her eyes flicked between the two men.

“I am fine, thanks to Ichigo's rescue.” The Kuchiki heir stated simply.

“I'm adjusting.” Ichigo replied, “Life has been kind of... Flipped upside down, but at this stage I'm used to that happening.”

“I can imagine.” She reached over, taking one of his hands in her own, “I'm so glad you're safe. From what Yoruichi told me... I wish I'd know what was happening, I would have... Tried to help.”

“I wouldn't have wanted you to put yourself in danger as well, Kūkaku.” The young man said softly, “Everything worked out well in the end, that's the important thing.”

Her eyes lingered on his eyes, she could see the trauma still swirling in their depths, partially hidden behind veils of liquid praline. Dipping lower, scanning the inky brand that marked her cousin as part of Aizen's elite force, the Gothic zero seemed so out of place against his skin and yet... It seemed so right as well. But it wasn't her main concern. Her gaze moved across his throat, she could see the crimp of flesh that was so prominent against his otherwise sun kissed skin.

“Is the bastard dead?” She asked in a growl.

Ichigo faltered momentarily, reaching up and touching the scar she was staring at, the heat of her gaze making the mark burn with memories he would rather forget, “I don't know.” He said honestly.

“Shame.” She hissed, dropping her gaze to her hands.

“Yoruichi told you what he did... Didn't she?” He said quietly, expression turning deadpan.

“She... Hinted.”

“I see.” The strawberry heaved a sigh and looked away, tilting his head to one side, another burn tingling at his skin, the faintly puckered skin on his shoulder where Ulquiorra's teeth had buried. Shiro's Espada form had healed those wounds, hidden the scars from sight, but once Ichigo had broken free the scars had surfaced, though, they were fainter than on his throat, “Don't pity me.”

“I would never pity you, Ichi.” Kūkaku smiled weakly, there was lingering sadness in her eyes, but true to her word pity was the last thing he saw, “I couldn't be more proud of the man you've become. You've grown strong.”

“I had some help.” He mused, “But... Speaking of growing strong... I want to appeal to have the Clan elevated back to its correct status. I wanted to see if you'd consent before I started trying to do so.”

Blue orbs widening in surprise, “That is no easy task... I tried myself but was refused...”

“I will be assisting him.” Byakuya murmured, eyes closed as he had been content to simply allow the cousins to talk.

“Interesting...” She raised an eyebrow, pressing her fingertips to her lips, “Perhaps with the endorsement of someone like you it might be possible...”

“Do you know why our Clan was removed, Kūkaku?” Ichigo asked, “No one ever said...”

She shifted uncomfortably, “I... Don't actually know myself. There was a... Cluster of events around the time we were banished. Isshin's murder in the World of the Living... Kaien's death here in Soul Society... I sometimes wonder, knowing what I know now, if Aizen had a hand in it.”

“I wouldn't put it past him.” The Kuchiki nobleman muttered venomously, “It would have been a complicated task to conceal Ichigo's identity if his remaining family still freely strolled Seireitei's halls. It's an incredible feat that he didn't bump into Kaien while in Shino, let alone the rest of you.”

Ichigo folded his arms and released a small hum of thought, “Well, if Aizen did have something to do with it, we should have an even greater case for having the Clan restored. Would you want that though, Kūkaku? You seem to have made a good home for yourself.”

“Do I want the pride of our family restored? Are you joking?” She flashed him a wide, toothy grin, “Of course I want that. I might not come back to live in Seireitei, after all, I like my home. But that's no reason why you couldn't reopen the Shiba Estate yourself.”

Returning her smile, Ichigo leaned back on his hands, “So I have your consent to take on any of the old farts who try to stand in my way?”

“Of course. I expect you to give them Hell from me.”

“And... If I were to take the Shiba name for official Clan business?” He tilted his head again.

Kūkaku looked stunned at first, her lips parting to release a small breath, “Truly?”

“Yes. But I will be maintaining my usual name for anything outside of Clan business. I kinda like being a Kurosaki.”

“Ichigo Shiba doesn't quite have the same ring as Kurosaki, does it?” She chuckled, throwing a hand through her tufts of black hair.

“True enough, it would never feel entirely right. But... I really want to make a go of this. What do you say?”

His cousin fell silent for a moment, taking the time to light her favourite pipe, she held it aloft between her thumb and forefinger, pointing at the strawberry haired Shinigami, “If any of us can restore the Shiba pride, I'd place my bets on it being you. I'd be proud to be able to call you a Shiba in more than just blood.”

Smiling, Ichigo gave a single nod, “Then it's decided. I'm not sure if anything will happen before this war is over, but...”

“If you defeat Aizen I doubt anyone in Seireitei will refuse you anything you want.” She scoffed, “I'm patient, I can wait.”

Ichigo slowly got to his feet, letting his hands fall to his sides, “I'm glad to have your support. And if you ever decide you want to move back to the city, there will be a place for you.”

“I'm sure there will be.” She mused, remaining seated as she blew out a ring of smoke, “You'd better not forget the wedding invitations, by the way. Ganju is pissed that he keeps missing your visits.”

Snorting the strawberry headed towards the door, “I'll make sure yours are the first ones I write.”

“You'd better.”

Ichigo took a deep breath as he left the confines of the house, feeling Byakuya at his side. The strawberry haired male smiled faintly and took his fiancé's hand, enjoying how their fingers linked together automatically.

Ichigo lifted his free hand and once against brushed the faintly puckered skin across his throat, grimacing faintly, “I didn't realise it was that noticeable.”

The raven haired Shinigami faltered, momentarily caught between the need to comfort him and the necessity of being honest, “We all have scars from what happened in Hueco Mundo, Ichigo, some of them are visible to the naked eye and some are not. What happened to you was... An atrocity, and I would do anything to be able to avenge your pride myself, but... Shiro did that for you at the time. It doesn't define you. Your scars do not define you.”

“I know.” He said quietly, forcing a faint smile, “My mind still plays tricks sometimes but... I don't want pity or... Sad looks. It happened. I can't change that. But I can make sure it doesn't ruin the rest of my life, it's just gonna take some work I guess.”

Byakuya pulled the younger man to a stop, tugging him closer and sliding both arms around his body, holding him securely as he bowed his head and gently peppered kisses along the scar that ran across his throat.

He knew what Ichigo meant by his mind playing tricks. There had been those times in Las Noches when he had woken from sleep, shaken from nightmares by Grimmjow, memories of seeing Ichigo's lifeless form hanging limply within Ulquiorra's grasp, the Cuatro Espada's blade digging into his throat, pulling back with such a fixated desire to decapitate. Like the bastard hadn't done enough damage without mutilating his body further.

Ichigo released a content sigh at the contact, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he felt soft lips against his skin; he slipped his hands up his fiancé's chest, encircling the nape of his neck with his fingers as he held him there, gently toying with the fine strands of new hair growing beneath the inky canopy of silken locks.

The strawberry tugged firmly at the dark hair in his hands, forcing Byakuya's head back just enough that he could claim his lips with a forceful kiss, colliding their mouths together with a searing urgency he hadn't felt for some time.

Heat swirled between them despite their surroundings, and the younger Shinigami groaned from deep within his throat, nipping at his lover's bottom lip as he gazed up into his eyes with a haziness he didn't care to hide.

“Byakuya...” He breathed, “I know how I reacted last time... But, I really don't wanna wait anymore... I _need_ you.”

“I don't want to push you into anything.” The nobleman purred, returning the heated look.

Ichigo frowned faintly, but he wasn't annoyed, “I could never be afraid of you, you know that right? But if you deny me what I want now... You might just start being afraid of me.”

Laughing huskily, the raven haired noble nipped at Ichigo's earlobe, enjoying the shudder he received in response, “Well then, we had best get home swiftly.”

“No.” A wicked smirk toyed around the corners of the strawberry's lips, “I think it's time we found out just how well you can control your reiatsu... Even when under stress...”

“What do you-” The nobleman's question was silenced as his hand was grabbed and he was dragged unceremoniously down a narrow and dimly lit alleyway between two shacks, his face heating up significantly as he watched Ichigo lean back against one of the walls with the most alluring look on his face he had ever witnessed, “You're serious?”

“Deadly.” Came the hushed answer, “No more talking Byakuya... I'm done waiting...”

The uncertain knot in his stomach tightened at the demand, but he couldn't resist leaning in and clasping Ichigo's face between his palms, pinning him firmly against the wall as his hands trailed downwards, sliding through long locks of hair, toying with sensitive patches of flesh that he could recall from memory. He had spent so many nights longing for his sunrise haired lover to be back in his arms, to rekindle everything they could have lost forever. This hadn't been how he had expected their bodily reunion to go, but then like with everything else Ichigo touched, it was unpredictable at best. And maybe it was better that way.

There was a burning need rising within them both, arousals pressed together through the fabric of their uniforms, Byakuya made short work of Ichigo's sash, throwing it aside for later before he dipped his hands into the confines of his shihakusho and trailed his fingertips over the divots and ripples of muscled ribs.

The strawberry released a groan, wrapping his arms around the raven haired Shinigami's shoulders, he pulled himself up, coiling his legs around his waist as he arched into every touch and slide of digits against his abdomen, his muscles quivering beneath the touches.

He ran his tongue along the shell of the Kuchiki heir's ear, smirking at the rumble of enjoyment he heard as a response, he felt deft hands slid into his hakama, tugging it aside and freeing him from its confines, the chill of the air hitting his heated skin and making him shiver. Soft but firm massaging circles pressed into his thighs and buttocks, a gentle check to see if he was still content.

Ichigo whined softly, looking into Byakuya's eyes, “Don't you dare hold back on me.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” The raven haired man mused, lifting a hand and suggestively tapping his fingertips against Ichigo's lips, “Open up.”

Moaning in response, his lips parted obediently, sucking the digits in greedily as he began trailing his tongue up and down and around them, eye contact never breaking as the heat between them grew. The younger man could already see the dilation in his lover's eyes, the need, the drive, the want. He knew he wasn't much better. He nipped teasingly at the tips of the intruding fingers before pulling his mouth away, running his tongue across his lips provocatively.

They met in a clash of lips and teeth and tongues, Ichigo's body arching as he felt slicked fingers teasing him at first, before dipping inside his body to stretch, satisfy and torture all at the same time. His nails dug restlessly into Byakuya's clothed shoulders, tugging listlessly at the fabric as his hips rocked against the sensation of partial fullness, a sharp gasp of pleasure breaking free every now at again as his prostate was brushed or nudged, sending tingles of bliss from his head to his toes.

It felt good. It felt right. There was no pain, no fear, no entrapment. It was everything he wanted. Everything he needed. Byakuya would never hurt him. He knew that.

As fingers left him, only to be replaced by his lover's length, Ichigo tossed his head back, gritting his teeth to suppress a moan load enough that it might have drawn attention to them, he panted harshly and slowly peered down at Byakuya with heavy lidded eyes, face flushed.

The rhythmic rocking of hips started slow, but was no less urgent, building quickly to a punishing speed and depth that left them both mewling in an attempt to silence themselves. Ichigo curled his toes, clinging to Byakuya's body and burying his face in the crook of his neck, his body arching and jolting with each heady thrust and snap.

The younger Shinigami knew he wasn't going to last long, it had felt like an eternity since he had last been touched by someone who had permission to do so, he could already feel the boiling coil of orgasm pooling in the pit of his stomach and his muffled cries of pleasure mimicked his body's needs. He groaned into Byakuya's shoulder, biting into the soft black fabric to silence himself as his body stiffened and bowed.

Head tossed back sharply, a strangled sob breaking free from his throat, Ichigo felt his climax wash over him and carrying him away in its currents. His muscles spasming ruthlessly around the length of erection still burrowing into his heat, he felt his lover's fingers twitch on his hips, their grip tightening.

The strawberry haired Shinigami leaned forwards, closing his mouth over Byakuya's as he saw his lips open to release what was likely to be an unshackled cry. He felt the raven haired man's body quiver momentarily, before tensing, the raptures of shakes that ripped across his shoulders followed the feeling of release.

Gasping out as they parted, the pair shared a heated look, a silent promise that more intimacy would follow later in the day.

“I love you, Byakuya Kuchiki.” The strawberry whispered croakily as he accepted help in redressing.

“And I love you, Ichigo Kurosaki.” Came the immediate response, Byakuya was no less breathless, “Honestly though, you do truly seem determined to unravel me to my core. Having me do this in a public place.”

“I didn't hear you complaining.” The younger Shinigami smirked wickedly, popping his head out from the alley to glance around for any Souls, “Come on. Let's head home.”

Rolling his eyes, the raven haired man followed him, unable to resist the urge to smirk a little himself as he watched his lover move with the very faintest of limps, he caught up to his side and grabbed his hand in his own, his expression softening to a smile as he saw the hushed blush still seated on Ichigo's cheeks.

“When we arrive at the mansion I'll run you a bath,” the nobleman said softly, pulling his lover closer, “You can have a proper soak and relax. In the meantime, I'll begin drawing up the paperwork to have the Shiba Clan elevated back to their rightful position.”

Purring at the idea, Ichigo nuzzled into Byakuya's side, “That sounds perfect. Thank you.” The strawberry had barely finished speaking before he released a squeak of surprise as his lover scooped him up in his arms.

“Then let us not delay for even a second longer.” The raven haired Shinigami grinned suddenly before he burst forwards in a leap of Shunpo, pushing himself to his swiftest as he flitted up onto the rooftops of the shacks, darting side to side and across the meandering gaps caused by streets and alleys.

“We would get back faster if you let me carry you!” Ichigo laughed, tipping his head back as he felt the wind rushing through his hair, throwing it behind them both like a sunny cape.

“And how would it look, for my Third Seat and future husband, to be carrying _me_ home?” Eyebrow quirking in amusement, Byakuya released a small snort, “I think not.”

“Well, when you put it like that I suppose I can't refuse!”

* * *

Later that evening, as Ichigo curled up in bed in a tangle of limbs and embraces with his fiancé, the strawberry haired Shinigami smiled to himself. The rest of their day had been spent together, he had bathed while Byakuya kept his word and began drafting the necessary forms but when those tasks had been completed they had spent several hours simply relearning each other both mentally and physically.

Opening his eyes just a crack, Ichigo permitted himself a moment to look at Byakuya's sleeping face, the nobleman was relaxed and his breathing was deep, slow and barely trembled despite the amount of time they had spent having sex. He couldn't believe for a moment that there was anywhere he would rather be than back in the Kuchiki heir's arms, or his bed.

“Our bed.” He corrected himself aloud, his voice barely above a whisper as he chuckled softly at the thought and snuggled back down, burrowing his head under the sleeping man's chin as he waited for slumber to steal him away as well.

He was surprised when instead of sleep reaching out its comforting hands to spirit him off to dreams and rest, he was sucked downwards into himself, sinking into the depths of his Inner World so easily he wasn't sure how it had happened. It certainly hadn't been a conscious thought.

Peering around at the street, Ichigo scowled deeply. It was dark. Normally, no matter what time of day it was in the real world, his Inner World was forever lit by sunlight and blue skies, or storm clouds depending on his level of despair. But it was perpetually night, there were no stars above him, and no moon. It was as if a great blanket of blackness had been thrown over the entire scene.

It made his skin crawl. His hairs stood on end, the skin at the nape of his neck tingling at the sensation of being watched by an unseen force. Ichigo's chest tightened uncomfortably as anxiety swirled within his core. He'd give anything not to relive that day again. Absolutely anything.

Pain rippled across his scalp as powerful fingers fisted his hair, pressing him down into the sands, holding him in place. His heart was thundering again, his skin was bare again. Teeth were buried in his shoulder, tearing at his muscles, drawing blood, drawing screams of pain.

Ulquiorra... Why... Why couldn't he let him have some peace? It was bad enough remembering it randomly through the day, but reliving it at night was too much. He needed rest, needed peace...

He could see his sword, he could reach it! He just had to wriggle forward a little bit... He just had to survive a few more minutes. But there was that hand around his ankle again, tearing him back. His body was spasming in agony, muscles torn and bruised and battered and... There was a sword at his throat. The steel pinching his skin, digging a groove. Cutting into him. Black and white lips against his ear...

The strawberry sat bolt upright in bed, tearing himself roughly from Byakuya's grasp as a sharp shout escaped his lips, sweat rolling down every inch of his skin as he stared blindly at the darkness of the bedroom. His chest heaved and he felt the bed dip beside him, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Ichigo, what's wrong? Are you alright?” Byakuya's voice was sleepy but no less concerned.

Swallowing hard, he ran a hand down his face, “I... Y-Yes I'm... I'm fine... I just...”

“The dream again?”

“Yes.” He whispered defeatedly.

“Come here.” Byakuya opened his arms and embraced him as Ichigo's head came to rest on his chest, “While I was in Las Noches, I too had nightmares. On occasion Grimmjow was able to assist me in sleeping soundly. He would release a pulse of reiatsu across my body and my subconscious, allowing a protective layer against such dreams. Rest easy now, I shall do the same for you.”

“I can't ask you to-”

“You are not asking, Ichigo. I am offering.” The nobleman's smile was small, but serious, “Close your eyes and relax.”

Ichigo couldn't help but comply, his eyes slipping shut obediently as he felt one of his lover's hands rest on the crown of his head, “Thank you.” Was the last thing he said before feeling the dull warmth of reiatsu washing over him.


	73. Change And Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks pass quickly in Soul Society, as the Shinigami prepare for the on coming war, and just when things couldn't get any stranger, a Senkaimon opens above the city and an unexpected visitor arrives.

Two weeks passed quickly in the wake of returning to Seireitei. During that time Byakuya kept his word and helped submit a formal request to have the Shiba Clan reinstated to their rightful position as one of the Great Noble Families. Ichigo underwent the official ceremonial proceedings to be recognised as the Clan Head, under the watchful eyes of the few remaining Shiba Elders and Kūkaku, he gained a final set of coiling tattoos on his hips for his trouble.

It seemed promising that the Clan would be reinstated after the war with Aizen was concluded, and Ichigo had taken the time to explore the Shiba Estate with Byakuya. It had been closed up, left to dust mites, spiders and rot. But it was nothing that couldn't be repaired with enough time and effort. For the young Kurosaki, it was a project. Something he could sink his teeth into whenever he felt like getting his hands dirty. It was a good stress relief, throwing out old furniture, cleaning from ceiling to floor. It helped keep his mind away from tremulous memories that refused to die.

Around the same time, Byakuya's application to make Renji a Taichou was accepted by Kyōraku. Under the scrutiny of the current Sou-Taichou, Byakuya who had recommended him, as well as Unohana and Hitsugaya the redhead was assessed for his suitability. From what Renji told him afterwards, the Test had gone as well as he could have hoped. His Bankai was met with positive judgement by everyone present and his commitment to his friends and subordinates was highly received.

Just a day later Renji was 'unofficially' promoted to the rank of Taichou. It would only be officiated after the war with Aizen came to an end, he would be allowed to wear a haori and he would be allowed to take command but the traditional ceremony to appoint him would have to wait. The day after his promotion Renji left Division Six for the last time and moved to take command of Division Nine.

Ichigo couldn't have been prouder of his friend, amazed by his growth both in terms of power and confidence. And while he was sad to see his friend leave Division Six, as what Byakuya by the time it came for Renji to say goodbye, his own promotion to Fukutaichou gave him more than enough work to take his mind off the loss of the boisterous redhead. Not to mention the vibrant drinking session in Rukongai to celebrate. Everything had been fine until Matsumoto had introduced shots. Again.

In between learning his new duties, filing paperwork that Renji had never gotten around to finishing, balancing his relationship with Byakuya as well as his social life with his friends, and working to clean out the Shiba Estate, Ichigo was training harder than ever to ensure he was ready for the oncoming war. He'd taken to training alone after an accident in the training ring had almost left Byakuya and Rukia severely injured. His power had flowed out, his mask in place, his strength increased tenfold. The guilt had rendered him incapable of training with anyone. He didn't want to risk hurting the people he loved.

At the same time, Ichigo found his sleep almost constantly disturbed. If it wasn't the memory of Ulquiorra's attack, it was vague and foggy memories of Shiro's time as an Espada. Little bits of information that hadn't seemed important at the time, but now rose to the surface listlessly.

Even brief discussions with Zangetsu revealed nothing, the Zanpakutō was none the wiser as to why his sleep was being disturbed so regularly. It was natural to remember the pain of the attack, but surely not as often as it was happening... And as for Shiro's memories too, it was a jumbled mess of useless background text more than anything else.

Ichigo sighed deeply, drawn from his thoughts by the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, the strawberry looked around and smiled as he came face to face with his fiancé. They were in Byakuya's office in Division Six, with a muttered apology Ichigo recalled that they'd been talking about Urahara's most recent plans to protect Karakura town.

“Are you alright?” The Kuchiki heir tilted his head to the side, “It's unlike you to zone out like that. Especially when Karakura is concerned.”

“I'm fine, sorry to worry you.” He chuckled softly and offered a smile, “Just thinking.”

“It's quite alright, I just wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours sometimes... That way I could help.”

Ichigo snorted softly, “I think you'd regret it.” He clicked his tongue at the faintly insistent expression on the other's face, “I'm just thinking about how much has changed recently. The Shiba Estate being opened, Renji leaving, my promotion... It's a lot.”

“It's understandable to be overwhelmed at times.” Byakuya's expression softened again as he pulled the sunrise haired Shinigami in close and pressed a sweet kiss on his forehead, “You can talk to me, about anything. I never want you to think you have to keep it to yourself because you are concerned that I will react poorly.”

“I don't think that at all... I know I can talk to you, sometimes I just want to sift through it myself though.” He couldn't help but melt against him and released a small sound from the back of his throat, “Actually... Now I think about it I do have a question for you but it's kind of... Awkward.”

“You can ask me anything.” The raven haired Taichou moved away and perched on the edge of his immaculately kept desk, “What's wrong?”

“Last night, one of the memories I dreamt about, from Shiro's time in control...” He folded his arms restlessly and leaned against the windowsill, “He was talking to Aizen about the fact you and I are capable of having a child because of our noble blood... Reiatsu... Whatever it is...”

“I see. That does seem a strange conversation for them to share.”

“Yeah... Not as strange as Aizen's answer.” Ichigo turned his eyes towards the ceiling restlessly as he nibbled his bottom lip, “He told Shiro... I mean Aizen said... I'm not sure why this is so weird to say out loud but... Aizen said he was also nobility, lesser than the Shiba Clan or the Kuchiki Clan but nobility nonetheless. Almost like he was making the point that if it was what Shiro wanted... He could make it happen.”

Byakuya's face had turned to stone, a look of shock scrawled where there was usually careful containment, “Aizen offered Shiro the chance to have a child?”

“I guess so. He made the point that Shiro was inhabiting a body that belonged to a noble... Mine of course. Shiro was kind of taken aback too... But he rationalised it away as meaning nothing because neither of them are exactly... What did he say... Domesticated.” He shrugged but then sighed, “My point was that... Aizen asked Shiro how. How did it work? You know... How would we...”

“Have a child?”

“Yeah. I mean, after the whole thing with Norio and the Elders... The engagement and the drama that followed, I kind of forgot about the whole childbearing thing. We never really talked about it, what with everything happening so fast.” The strawberry paused and finally met Byakuya's gaze again, albeit shyly, “So... I'm curious. How would we... Have a child?”

The Kuchiki heir paused for a long moment, releasing the smallest of hums before he finally spoke, “There are two ways, depending on the occupation of the two Souls involved. Usually, if at least one potential parent is a non-combatant then at the time when a child is desired both parents will create a meld of their reiatsu, like a ball or artificial womb and place it within the non-combatant parent. With the one time application of reiatsu and the act of sex to seal the 'ritual', a foetus is created by the merged reiatsu of both parents and will grow naturally as it would within a woman's body.”

Ichigo blinked once. Twice. A third time.

“So... We'd make a fake womb and put it inside one of us... Right... Totally normal... Totally fine...” He let out a long breath, “I'm getting my head around it slowly. Okay. What's the other way?”

Laughing under his breath at his lover's bemusement, the nobleman let out a small sigh, “If both potential parents are combatants the same ritual would be followed, but instead of the false womb remaining within the body of the carrying parent it would be taken out and placed into an incubator for the length of the pregnancy.”

“Oh, I see...” Ichigo scratched his cheek thoughtfully, “I guess it does make sense in a way. You're always saying noble's have higher reserves of reiatsu, I suppose it is ideal for that kind of conception.”

“True enough.” Byakuya pushed himself up and approached the strawberry haired Shinigami, resting his hands either side of him on the windowsill, pinning him in place, “Might I add, that to be even remotely capable of having a child both parents must be entirely able to control their reiatsu perfectly.”

“Well obviously... Wait...” His eyes widened suddenly and he released a small gasp, “When we got engaged I couldn't control mine at all... But... I mean... You knew that and you still...”

“Yes.” The nobleman's expression turned sweet, warm, “Despite knowing you could not control your reiatsu I agreed to marry you, even while knowing in your current state you'd be unable to perform the ritual to bare a child.”

Ichigo's face flushed as his heart swelled and he found himself clasping his lover's face between his hands as he broke into a hot kiss. The feeling of Byakuya's arms around him made him whine with desire. He never seemed to be able to get enough of the Kuchiki heir. He was like a drug. A wholesome, harmless, addictive drug that he couldn't give up. He didn't want to give up.

It seemed the feeling was mutual as he felt his legs lifted and his body turned towards the desk. Precisely placed trays and ink holders were sent flying by Byakuya's sweeping reach as he shoved Ichigo's body down roughly on the wood. They were both flushed, both taken away with need. The strawberry made some muted attempt at mentioning the door was unlocked, but it was silenced by nimble fingers wrapping around his already blooming erection.

_'Fuck it...'_ he thought with a smirk, _'People know how to knock.'_

* * *

Later that day, the strawberry looked across the training ring towards the practice dummies he'd set out. With his sword now slung casually over his shoulder, he felt an underwhelming surge of disappointment at the sorry state of straw strewn haphazardly across the sand. It was probably the only thing he missed about Hueco Mundo: the fights.

While he no longer relied on combat to awaken his emotions, he still felt the draw towards the more violent enjoyment of tearing down an enemy's defences. There was one issue he now found himself constantly aware of, and that was the fact he was vastly too strong to properly train with anyone except Zangetsu or Shiro without having to hold back an awful lot. If he thought he'd held back all his life before hand, he knew more than ever that he was now.

“My goodness, what did those dummies do to you?” Rukia's voice came from behind him

Ichigo turned on the spot and smiled at her, “They insulted my pride.” He answered jokingly.

“I think you're spending too much time with Nii-sama.” She laughed, walking over slowly, “You look bored.”

“I guess I just have a lot of surplus energy.” He shrugged, reaching out and playfully ruffling her hair, “What about you? What are you doing over here, Kuchiki Fukutaichou?”

Rukia rolled her eyes, “Stop calling me that, Ukitake Taichou hasn't confirmed anything yet.”

“He will though.” Ichigo said certainly, “He'd be a fool to overlook your talents.”

A soft flush covered her cheeks and she rubbed the back of her neck, “Thanks.”

“So, come on, what are you doing all the way over here when you could be happily tucked up in bed with the new Division Nine Taichou?”

“Ugh you are infuriating.” She snarled, folding her arms with a scowl, “I actually came over to see how you are doing. Nii-sama mentioned you've not been sleeping properly.”

“Oh did he now.” He rolled his eyes, “I'm fine. Just some... post-trauma memories. It'll pass.”

The small woman stared up at him, “Are you sure? You've... You've been through a lot, in a very short space of time. No one would blame you for...”

“Snapping?” He raised an eyebrow, “I'm not breaking, Rukia. I'm not losing it or going crazy. I'm fine. I'll be a lot better once this war is over and Aizen is dealt with. Then I will be able to relax.”

She held her hands up, “Hey, I'm not saying you're going crazy, Ichigo. Weirdly, I think you're one of the most level headed people I know. But everyone is allowed to struggle. Just... Don't bottle it up.”

Sighing, the strawberry forced the scowl away, smiling faintly instead, “I promise, if I need to talk to someone I will. For now, I just think it's the pressure of the impending battle. I want it over with.”

“We all do.” Rukia breathed, frowning as she looked away.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“It... It's probably nothing...” She rubbed her arm self consciously, “It's just... This time it's going to be for real isn't it?”

Tilting his head slightly, Ichigo considered her words, “What do you mean: for real?”

“The last time I properly saw Aizen was on Sôkyoku Hill and he was toying with us. He wasn't showing his full strength, he wasn't trying to crush us at all... He was messing around. But this time... This time it will be for real, he'll be fighting properly. And... The idea of that terrifies me.” She whispered, voice cracking, “I'm not scared for myself... I'll handle whatever comes my way but...”

His expression softened suddenly as he realised the problem, “Your brother, your lover, and your friend are all seated officers in a war where those ranks will be expected to go all out to defeat the enemy. You're... Scared for us?”

“Yeah.” She admitted sheepishly.

Ichigo felt his heart throb painfully at the expression on her face, he shared her concerns of course, they would all be fighting at full strength, all fighting to defeat their opponent. He had a lot more to lose than he used to.

“Rukia.” He said firmly, tilting his head back as he spoke, looking down at her sternly.

“Y-Yes?” Her eyes widened.

“Whether I run the risk of sounding like Byakuya again...” He took a breath, “I swear on my pride I'll make sure Renji and your brother get through this war. You won't be left alone.”

“You... Really mean that, don't you?”

“Of course I do.” He raised an eyebrow, “It took a while for it to sink in... But Gin was right. I'm the only one who hasn't seen his Shikai, which means I'm the only one who can fight him at full strength and know I'm attacking the right person. Aizen is _my_ responsibility.”

Rukia stared up at him, reaching out and grasping one of his hands in both of hers, “Make sure you come back unharmed too. If you sacrifice yourself to end him... I'll never forgive you.”

Closing his eyes at her words, the strawberry released a small sigh, “I... I am not in the habit of making promises I might not be able to keep.”

“Ichigo...” Her body stiffened in concern and she gawped up at him, teeth clenched.

Whatever she might have planned to say was silenced by the sound of sliding doors that came from above them, both Shinigami looked skywards in confusion, eyes widening in unison as they watched an unregistered Senkaimon appear, shōji doors sliding open to reveal the pure white light that came from beyond.

“What the...” The strawberry breathed, squinting as he saw a solitary figure emerging from the illumination, “Who the hell is that?”

Ichigo felt a tingle creeping up around his awareness and he suddenly shot upwards, Zangetsu tumbling from his grasp and into the sand, he used the nearby bath house roof to propel himself higher, watching as the figure collapsed to their knees, only to sharply began tumbling downwards in a spiral of semi-consciousness.

The strawberry swore loudly, changing his angle just enough that he was able to snag the falling figure out of the sky, darting back down towards Rukia, his face paled significantly as he came to realise who he was holding in his arms.

Wiry, tall and dubiously strong beneath the ruffles of scarlet stained white material covering his body, that characteristic smile was long gone and replaced with a feverish frown beneath tattered locks of silver hair.

“G-Gin.” He whispered, laying the man down on the sand as he began assessing his injuries, the most significant of which was the deep abdominal wound which seemed to have been caused by a thankfully sharp blade, and the deep gouges to his eyes which had surely rendered him blind, “R-Rukia... Send for Unohana! Now!”

He heard her retreat swiftly, footsteps rushed as she undoubtedly tried to find a Hell Butterfly to send to the Division Four Taichou. Ichigo stared down at the silver haired fox, his hands shaking slightly as he cupped his face, trying to judge just how aware of his surroundings the man was.

“N-Ne... Ichi-Berry... Ya sound pretty worried...”

He could have cried from the relief of hearing that infuriating nickname, but Ichigo swallowed it back, “You bastard... You gave me a scare. Who the hell told you that you could fly?”

“Heh... Sorry about that... Was in a rush...” The man's voice was croaky and Ichigo could see that his lips were cracked and bloodied.

“What are you doing here? How did you even... Get away... The last thing I saw...”

Gin let out a groan of pain, fingers clenching at the wound in his gut, “It's... A long story... Not sure how long I got to tell it...”

“Don't be ridiculous, you're going to be fine. Rukia has gone to find Unohana, we'll get you patched up in no time.” He muttered.

“A-Aizen was furious.” Came the shuddered breath, “More so... Than I've ever seen... He killed... Barragan... Killed Zommari... Killed... Nnoitra's Fracción and Harribel's Fracción...”

Ichigo swallowed hard, he could feel Shiro crying out in dismay at the news, he could feel the Hollow's grief, and pain. He took a sharp breath and held one of Gin's hands, “And the others? The other Espada? What... What did he do?”

“Punished 'em...” The silver haired fox coughed, blood running down his cheek as it seeped from the corner of his mouth, “It was... Vile... He's... He's a monster...”

“But they are alive?” He asked.

“If... If ya can call call it that...” The man cringed, “He's... Drugged 'em all... Some kind of... Control substance... It's made 'em slaves... They remember their freedom... They tried a few times... Grimmjow tried to overcome it... It nearly... Nearly killed him...”

Ichigo's eyes widened in horror, gulping back a strangled sound as he tasted bile on his tongue, “And... You?”

“Tch...” Gin released a wet laugh, sarcastic at best, “After ya were dragged through the Garganta we fought... I put up a bit of a fight... Until he tried to show me his Shikai.”

“So I was right, you hadn't seen it either.”

“I... Managed to learn a trick... To avoid it's effects... Took decades to find out...” He shrugged weakly, “There was nothin' I could do to stop it though... So I blinded myself... No way was I... Gonna go down because of his... Fuckin' Shikai... No way...”

Ichigo again looked at the man's eyes, he bit his lip, a shudder running through him at the thought of those gouges having been self inflicted, “He didn't kill you though... What happened?”

“He set Tōsen on me, that bastard... Always wanted an excuse to show me the meaning of justice... 'Nd then I was locked up with the Espada... No treatment... No food... Just time...”

“How the hell did you escape?” Ichigo whispered, brushing some of his silver strands of hair back soothingly, not liking the distinctive rattle he could hear rising from the man's chest.

“It was... Starrk and Nelliel... They worked together to... Loosen the bars of my cell enough that I could slip free... I tried to find the keys to their cells... I tried to free 'em... But... Aizen _knew_... He came for me... Came to finish the job...” A clammy hand gestured to the fresh wound in his abdomen, “I opened the Senkaimon... And fled as fast as I could... Some of... Szayel's Fracción broke into the detention centre... Caused enough of a mess to let me slip away while... While Aizen dealt with 'em...”

“I'm sorry I left you there... I'm sorry Gin...”

“What ya sayin' sorry to me for? It was always... My plan... To get ya out of there once ya... Regained ya control...” The man shook his head slightly, faint smile touching at his lips, “Did ya... Tell Rangiku... My message?”

“I did.” He squeezed the hand that still rested in his own, glancing around in hopes of Unohana's arrival, “She... She was confused at first but... She said, you were apologising because you left without telling her again...”

“She's right.” Gin chuckled softly, choked sound rising from his throat as he began to cough, “Ichigo... Ichigo I came... Because I had... To tell ya... How to avoid... Kyōka Suigetsu's ability...”

“You came all the way for that?” He asked in disbelief.

“It's... Important!” The silver haired fox forced the words out, they came out sharply with a splash of blood that hit the strawberry's cheek, “Ya can't... Fall under his spell... If ya do... It's all over...”

“I know that already. Don't look at his sword.”

“Not lookin' at it won't save ya...” A small shake of the head, “Ya gotta... Ya gotta...”

Ichigo faltered as he saw the remaining colour begin to drain from Gin's face, the man was struggling to speak coherently more and more, he gripped his hand tighter, resting his free palm on the man's forehead, “It's alright, take your time.”

Gin grimaced, expression morphing into one of intense pain before he was struck by a barrage of harsh, wet coughs that left him shaking and his chest heaving, “Ya gotta... Touch the blade... Before the hypnosis... Power is... Activated... Or...”

“Be blind.” He finished for him, his mouth setting into an unhappy line. Neither of those options were particularly attractive, but maybe they would be helpful in the coming battles, “Thank you, Gin.”

“Ne... Ya don't have to... Thank me Ichi-Berry...” Gin's eyes slowly opened, staring upwards sightlessly, the damage seen across his lids mimicked by what lay beneath them, “... Do ya think... Ya can do it? Can ya beat him?”

The strawberry faltered, he hung his head and gave him the same answer he'd given Shinji a few weeks earlier, “I'm going to give it everything I have.”

“Good.” The silver haired fox smiled faintly, his lips tinged blue, “... I thought... If I got close to him... I could stop him... I wanted to get... Revenge... He hurt Rangiku when she was... A kid... I wanted to... Avenger her... Honour... But as time passed... I got drawn into his web... It was harder to break free... Harder to act... Harder to... Succeed...”

“I'll make sure they know, I'll make sure they all know what you tried to do... I won't let them believe you to be a traitor, Gin.” Tears were welling in his eyes faster by the second.

“I don't care about that...” The older man sighed deeply, his eyes fluttering shut again, “I just want... I just...”

Ichigo felt his eyes stinging, he had always liked Gin, the man's sense of humour had taken him some time to adapt to, but they had worked well together in the past, he respected him, liked him even, “I will make him pay for hurting her. I'll do it for you Gin. You don't... Have to worry anymore. I'll make sure her honour is avenged.”

“Ah... I... Always liked ya... Glad... Ya turned on him... Glad ya got free... From that web...” Gin sucked in a sharp breath, grunting faintly as his back arched, “Ya ain't the... Kid from Fugai anymore... Ya got strong... Ya got brave... I can... Die knowin'... I can leave it... In yer hands... Now... Ichigo...”

Biting down on his bottom lip to silence himself, Ichigo trembled, feeling Gin's hand slip from his as the silver haired fox drew a final breath and released it in a gagging, wet pant. All movement stopped, all sound. That sickening rattle silenced itself, disappearing into the darkness.

“No... Gin no... Please...” He said quietly, his throat constricting painfully as his hands shook and he sucked in a quivering breath, “I never... I never got to thank you... For everything you've done... You risked so much... You risked being... Hated by everyone just so you could try and take him down and they didn't know! I don't care what you said, I'll make sure they know! I'll make sure you're honoured the way you should be... Not as a traitor... But as Gin Ichimaru... Division Three's Taichou... I swear it...”

“Ichigo!” Rukia's voice snapped out as she appeared, Unohana, Byakuya and Matsumoto at her flank.

The strawberry lifted his gaze slowly, hands hands shaking in his lap as he looked at each of them in turn, watching in dismay as Matsumoto released a pained scream at the sight, her legs buckling beneath her. She was caught by Unohana's steady grasp and held up as she wailed.

Ichigo slowly got to his feet, trying to find the words, trying to say something, anything to help the pain his friend was feeling. But he couldn't. Instead, he clenched his teeth, his fingers balling into tight fists as he felt the first splashes of rain striking the back of his head.

“Everyone... Needs to know...” He forced out as tears rolled down his cheeks, “Gin didn't... Betray Soul Society! He never turned his back on us! He was working against Aizen... All along... In his own way... No matter what the cost... He died trying to help...”

“I-Idiot...” Matsumoto gasped out, slowly sinking to her knees at Gin's side, “I never... I never got to... Do you think he knew?”

“He loved you more than anything else in the world.” Ichigo glanced at them both, “And he knew you loved him too. He did this... Because he wanted to help you...”

“Idiot...” She said again.

Turning away from the sight, Ichigo looked down at his hands, releasing a silent sob as he tried to rub away the drying blood that coated his palms and fingers. There was such a rage bubbling inside his belly, churning and coiling ready to leap free and tear someone limb from limb. If he wasn't careful, it would be someone he cared about.

The rain was getting heavier, slapping noisily against the ground in large droplets that almost seemed to bounce with their weight, the clouds over heard rolled and rumbled threateningly.

Striding forwards, he swooped down to retrieve his Zanpakutō, swinging the blade over his back as he passed the Kuchiki siblings, hesitating for only a moment, “Don't follow me.” He stated, before disappearing from their sights.

He wasn't sure where he was going, he allowed his instincts to carry him through Seireitei as he coiled his reiatsu inside himself, limiting it so that it wouldn't flare out and damage buildings or hurt innocent Shinigami resting inside their respective barracks. He'd learnt quickly after returning to Soul Society that if he wasn't careful he could easily hurt people with his reiatsu alone, and had quickly tempered himself to keeping it lowered around populated areas. He wouldn't take lives by crushing them accidentally, not like in Hueco Mundo.

A gasp escaped him as he stopped suddenly, finding himself on the very precipice of Sôkyoku Hill, his toes barely hanging over the cliff edge as he glared down at the area below. The rain was slamming against him now, soaking through his uniform and slicking his skin, his hair sticking to his face in an angry hash of orange.

“ _ **Aibou...”**_

The silvery tone of Shiro's voice reached out to him, offering a comforting blanket of familiarity, “Gin shouldn't be dead... He shouldn't have sacrificed himself for me... None of them should... The Espada... Their Fracción... It's a fucking mess!”

“ _They did it because they believed in you, because they still believe in you.”_ It was Tensa who spoke next, his calm lucidity adding more weight to Shiro's presence.

“That doesn't make it right.” He muttered, scowling at the tremulous sky, “Everyone expects me to be able to defeat him... Everyone expects me to be the one to finish the fight... To take him down, to do the impossible. Even I expect it. And... I'd do it. I'd do everything I could to defeat him but...”

“ _ **But?”**_

“What if I can't?” Ichigo asked, his voice barely audible, eyes staring out blankly, “What if Shinji was right? What if... When it comes to that moment, when it comes to him and me... That life or death moment... What if he blocks me? What if he strikes me first? What if... I'm not strong enough?”

“ _You know you can do it, because your friends need you to do it. You've never failed to protect them. You never will.”_

“He's got an army behind him.” He murmured, “Forcing the Espada to continue serving him... Torturing them if they don't... I can't cut them down... Byakuya won't be able to cut them down... They deserve better...”

“ _ **So give them better. Win. And give them their freedom.”**_

“You make it sound so simple.” He snorted, kicking a small pebble over the edge of the cliff and watching it tumble, “People look at me differently now, I don't mean because of my looks or my power. They look at me like I'm some kind of hero. I'm not a hero. I started out as a villain... And I changed yeah, but I'm not a hero.”

“ _You started out as a child. Not a villain. You became the product of your surroundings, and his manipulation. And now you are better.”_

“I am still not a hero.”

“ _How do you define a hero, Ichigo?”_

He clenched his teeth, lowering himself to the floor and hugging his knees up into his chest, “You saw what he did in Szayel's lab... How easily he overpowered everyone... He killed Barragan... He killed Zommari... He killed Gin... No amount of heroism can stop a blade.”

“ _Yes, we saw what he did. And we saw you stand against him, and you will do it again. People look at you like you are a hero because you are willing to do whatever is necessary to protect the most precious things in your life. Even when you are hopelessly underpowered, outnumbered, you keep fighting. That... Is why you are a hero.”_ Tensa's teeth snapped together in a rare display of moodiness.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Ichigo let out a growl, clenching his fists into the soggy material of his hakama, “Fuck!” He barked, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“ _ **It's okay to doubt yerself, King. It's okay to doubt yer ability, yer courage and yer conviction... It makes ya Human. And underneath it all... Ya are still a Human, King. If ya walk through a Reishi Henkan-Ki ya would emerge in a Human body, with Human restrictions and Human reflexes. Ya don't need a Gigai to walk in the World of the Livin'... Ya just need yerself.”**_

“Is a mere Human strong enough to defeat a Shinigami who is capable of subjugating the Hōgyoku?” He snapped.

“ _Try it and find out.”_ There was a momentary pause, _“After all, what do you have to lose? If you don't try to fight Aizen, your friends will die. If you try to fight Aizen and fail, they will still die. But if you win... You save them all.”_

Lifting his head sharply, the orange haired Shinigami rolled his eyes, tongue clicking against his teeth in annoyance, “I hate it when you're right.”

“ _ **As long as ya remember that ya are never fightin' alone... Ya will find yerself capable of amazin' things.”**_

“ _And that is worth being right about. Now. You made a promise to Gin. You made a promise to Rukia. Are you ready to at least try and keep them, or are you going to hide up here and hope the day doesn't come?”_

Feeling a sudden swell of heat in his chest, Ichigo got to his feet, sucking in a breath as he looked out over Soul Society again, from the Hill he could see all of Seireitei and some of Rukongai. Zangetsu was right, if it meant protecting everything he loved it was worth giving it his all, “I'm ready... Thank you. Both of you.”


	74. Memories Of Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With plans to protect Karakura Town in place, and Gin's memorial service coming up, the last thing Ichigo expects is to be drawn into his Inner World to face an old foe.

Ichigo adjusted his Fukutaichou badge on his arm, making sure it was positioned correctly as he walked behind Byakuya towards the meeting room in Division One. It was to be his first public outing as the new Fukutaichou for Division Six and he was determined not to make a fool of himself or his fiancé, he had even gone through the painstaking trouble of braiding his hair so it looked a little less wild and a little more elegant.

Three days had passed since Gin's tumble into Seireitei, and after Ichigo's brief struggle with the weight of what was coming and the subsequent guidance he had received from Zangetsu and Shiro, the strawberry haired Shinigami had fervently fought to have Gin recognised as an ally instead of the traitor everyone believed him to be. He was certain, by the time his requests were met, that the only reason he had succeeded was because the Kuchiki siblings, Renji and Matsumoto were on his side.

The former Division Three Taichou was being given a memorial service a few hours after the meeting, his body having already dispersed and become part of Soul Society. It seemed that, at long last, Matsumoto had found some peace in knowing the man she had loved all her life had never truly betrayed her.

Sighing softly as he stared at the large doors which stood between him and the meeting room, Ichigo gave his uniform a final brush down, it was unusual for second in commands to be invited to the meetings and he could only assume such a summon had been received because the discussions were going to relate to the oncoming war.

He wasn't entirely sure he could stomach any more talk about Aizen, the Espada or the disgusting measures the man was going to in order to control his subordinates. He already had a headache just thinking about it, and that wasn't being helped at all by his still poor sleep.

“ _At least in your dreams you are beginning to fight back.”_ Zangetsu's voice was soft.

“ _For the all the help it does.”_ He responded, eyes shut as he stood behind his Taichou as the meeting began, _“I still can't break away from what Ulquiorra did.”_

“ _But even now, you no longer quiver when you say his name. You are growing stronger.”_

Ichigo received a sharp jab to his ribs, his eyes flashing open in an instant. He immediately flushed as he saw the eyes of every Taichou and Fukutaichou on him and soon realised that his reiatsu had given an ugly jolt of tremulous frustration.

“Sorry.” He muttered, glaring as he saw Renji smirk at him from across the room, “Zangetsu was... Doesn't matter. My apologies.”

“No matter,” Kyōraku chuckled with good humour as he adjusted his hat, his body language as relaxed as ever as he sat at the head of the room, “Our Zanpakutō's all give us a headache now and again.”

“Thank you, for your understanding.” He bowed his head and fell silent, determined not slip up any further.

“Now, as I was saying,” the pink clad man began again, “Kisuke Urahara and Mayuri Kurotsuchi have been working together to find a way to protect Karakura town from the oncoming battle. I am happy to announce that they feel they have come up with the best solution to the issue of Aizen planning to create an Ōken from the population of the town.”

Ichigo's ears pricked up at the mention of what used to be his home.

“That... Man and I conceived an unconventional idea, based upon the existence of the Reishi Henkan-Ki. It seemed logical to assume that if such a variation of your standard Senkaimon could be created, why not other variants as well.” The blue mane which seemed essential to the scientist's attire stuck out like a sore thumb among the other Shinigami present, “As such, we formulated a new type of Senkaimon. It is called Tenkai Ketchu.”

“Please explain to us how it works, Kurotsuchi Taichou.” Renji spoke up, no longer the shy man he would have been as a Fukutaichou, he had already begun to adapt well to the new responsibilities of his position.

“Four giant pillars are erected at cardinal points of Karakura town, when activated the Tenkai Ketchu replaces the space within it, with a space from somewhere else.” The man complied, explaining quickly, ignoring the looks of confusion he received from the likes of Kenpachi and Hisagi.

“You plan to replace the Karakura town with something else.” Unohana murmured.

“Correct.”

“Where will Karakura town be moved to?” Byakuya asked, as if sensing Ichigo's concerns.

“The plan is for us to construct a life sized replica of the town in Rukongai, and using the Tenkai Ketchu we will replace it with the real town.” Mayuri tapped a finger against his chin, “This means that when Aizen arrives to take the town, he will instead find himself within a fake replacement, while the real town rests safely inside Soul Society, her residents asleep and none the wiser.”

Ichigo let out a small breath, it sounded like an insane idea, ludicrous and barely achievable in the time they had left. And yet, the Division Twelve Taichou seemed so confident, and he couldn't help but speak up, “Should any assistance be required with constructing the fake Karakura town, I would be happy to assist, with the permission of Kuchiki Taichou. After all, I used to live there, I may be of some use.”

The raven haired noble glanced at him, his expression utterly neutral as it always was in front of his colleagues, but he nodded, “If Ichigo is needed I am content to release him to you.”

“An excellent idea.” Kyōraku hummed, “As long as we can be sure you don't plan to whisk the poor boy off for a dissection as soon as he's finished.”

“Bah. Willing test subjects are so hard to come across these days.” Was the only response they got, one which wasn't so comforting.

The Sou-Taichou dismissed them all only a short while later with a few words of encouragement, Ichigo sighed deeply as he walked beside his fiancé as they left the Division, hearing Renji and Hisagi not far behind them, engaging Hinamori in conversation. The strawberry glanced back and was glad to see them all getting along so well, Hinamori needed stability after the betrayal of Aizen. And Hisagi seemed grateful to have someone to share the work load of Division Nine with.

“Do you think this idea of a fake Karakura town will work?” Ichigo asked Byakuya as they left the barracks.

“Kurotsuchi seems confident.” Came the stoic reply before the noble softened to a smile, “I'm sure if nothing more it is worth trying.”

“Definitely. If nothing else, it might stall Aizen.” He shrugged, scratching the top of his head as he noted the increased security around the area, “What's with all the guards?”

“They never found the assassin who killed Yamamoto and Sasakibe. There are concerns another attack could be imminent, against Kyōraku or the other Taichou.” Byakuya sighed softly, “Personally, I doubt it. I think the assassin will either have taken their own life to evade capture, or will be hiding out, awaiting further orders.”

“You don't think...”

“That it was Norio?” The Kuchiki heir raised an eyebrow, “The idea crossed my mind initially but... As brilliant as the man is, he doesn't have the power to kill a Shinigami like Yamamoto.”

“How do you do that?” Ichigo scoffed, “Sometimes I swear you can read my thoughts.”

Byakuya reached out and took his fiancé's hand in his own, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss against the shell of his ear, “My love, from the moment you recovered your emotions you have worn them on your sleeve. It doesn't take a lot for me to see your train of thought.”

Cheeks pinking, the strawberry pouted at him, “I thought I'd mastered my emotions quite well, all things considered.”

“Oh you have.” He mused, “But I can read you like an open book.”

Deciding to take it as a compliment, Ichigo fell silent as they made their way back to the Division Six barracks, there were still a few things which needed sorting before Gin's memorial service began. Ichigo parted from his fiancé and entered the office of the Division's Fukutaichou, because both his and Renji's promotions had been so quick the strawberry hadn't had chance to fully move his possessions from the Third Seat's office and quarters, nor had he been able to redecorate.

Casting a brief eye around the office, he was greeted with ageless cream and russet shades, somewhat less ostentatious than Renji's personality, but oddly fitting at the same time. When the war was concluded Ichigo planned to splash the place with touches of gold, red, orange and black. Colours which reflected his personality, as well as Zangetsu's and Shiro's.

Sitting at his desk, he looked at the small pile of paperwork he had left to sift through a smiled, if there was one thing he could confidently say, it was that he was vastly better at his written work than Renji had ever been. In that respect, he had to thank Aizen for having taught him to be such a perfectionist.

As he finished signing off on the last few documents, Ichigo found himself staring out of the window, concentration momentarily broken by the sound of rain splashing against the glass. He sighed. He hated the rain. But it was that time of the year when it was more common, his only joy came from the thought that within a few more weeks the rain would turn to snow and every Shinigami in Soul Society would be being afflicted by festive cheer.

“If we survive that long.” He muttered to himself with a huff, looking back down at the paperwork he had completed. His eyes felt heavy all of a sudden, an unexpected weariness wrapping him up in its warmth, his skin flushing with the heat.

Rising from his seat slowly, he felt himself lurch uncertainly, swaying on the spot as that heat continued to creep deeper and further beneath his uniform, his body searing as a sheen of sweat began to streak his skin.

Turning towards the small sink in the back of the office, he staggered forwards, reaching out in hopes of getting a glass of water, but his knees buckled before he had even moved more than a few steps and he hit the floor with a thud.

The moment his skull cracked off the wooden floor he was thrown back into his Inner World, letting out a sharp cry of surprise as he fell from the edge of one of the skyscrapers, tumbling towards the street below with no control of his body.

He was grabbed, less than a foot from the ground by a pair of strong arms and he released a sharp inhalation, eyes widening as he came face to face with Ulquiorra. He struggled free, dropping to the ground as he put as much distance between them as he could, watching as that predatory look returned to the former Cuatro Espada's eyes.

His chest tightened anxiously, his Inner World hadn't changed. There was no sand. No red pillars. No false sky. Just skyscrapers. This was new. This hadn't happened before. Why could he see Ulquiorra while his Inner World remained unchanged? What was going on?

Swallowing hard, Ichigo forced himself to stop moving. Fists balling at his sides as he watched Ulquiorra's eyes narrow as he began prowling towards him. That intent to kill was still so strong. So overpowering. Odious. Abominable. Palpable. Wretched.

“Why won't you leave me in peace?” He asked aloud, he'd meant to bite his tongue, “Wasn't it enough to break me once? Why do you have to keep trying?”

Ichigo wasn't sure what he was expecting. But he wasn't willing to go through this torment any longer. He was done being the plaything of a horrific memory. He was done being Ulquiorra's victim. He was done!

“You don't belong here! This is my Inner World! My sanctuary! My Soul! You weren't welcome inside my body, you are not welcome here either!”

“Not welcome?” Ulquiorra's voice took him by surprise, “Being welcome has nothing to do with it. I forced my way into your body, just as I have forced my way into your mind. Even if you are no longer a leech sucking at Aizen-sama's offerings you still pose a threat. Ichigo Kurosaki.”

His resolve cracked immediately, he took a step back as he let out a shaky breath, “Forced your way... Into my mind? What are you talking about?! These were just memories! Just horrid memories!”

“Foolish trash.”

“F-Foolish?” Ichigo repeated half heartedly, “What are you talking about?”

Ulquiorra lifted his head, his fingertips were scarlet, stained with blood, “Humans... You're just so malleable.”

As if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, Ichigo shivered from head to toe. He remembered Ulquiorra's hands looking like that. After the Cuatro had pinned him down, fingers digging into his hips like talons, drawing blood. Tasting it. Smelling it. Detecting his Humanity. His weakness.

Shiro... Shiro had told him that the dark haired Espada had laced his wounds with his own reiatsu, preventing the albino Hollow helping him. Keeping him caged.

He'd never stopped to ask if Shiro had flushed that reiatsu out when he'd taken control. The strawberry's hands rose to his throat slowly, fingers coming to rest on the unnaturally hot puckered flesh of his scar. How many of his wounds had been laced? How many of his wounds had been violated by the malevolent reiatsu of his rapist?

“Ah, I see you are beginning to understand.” Ulquiorra's smirk was unnatural, unbefitting a face that was usually devoid of everything, “I have always dealt in ideals, but never forgotten the possibilities. It was ideal to remove you from the world, to remove you from Aizen-sama's sights, to remove you from existence. But it was always a possibility that your pesky Hollow would get in the way. That I would fail. That I would die, or suffer.”

“Did you... Somehow... Put part of your conscience inside me? With your reiatsu?” He gasped out, “When you... When you _raped_ me... You left a piece of yourself in my body, in my mind! You fucking bastard! That's why... That's why you've haunted me here! Why I can't rest! You're torturing me!”

“If I was unable to complete my goal physically, the least I could do it complete it mentally.” The green eyes monster looked around the city streets with distaste, “Perhaps if I remove Aizen-sama's biggest threat he will reward me by restoring my mask.”

“He'd never do that.”

“And you know him so well.” Ulquiorra's voice was venomous, “You know him so well that you were shocked to discover he had manipulated Hirako Shinji just like he manipulated you. You were surprised that he'd tortured the remaining Espada. Surprised that he'd kill someone who'd been at his side since the very beginning... Oh yes, you know him so well.”

Ichigo felt a sickened twist in his belly, gulping as Ulquiorra moved suddenly, appearing right in front of him, their noses almost touching. He felt a whimper rise, he forced it back down, “So every time I've remembered what you did... Was it a memory? Or were you doing it all over again?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” Came the sharp response as the green eyed beast leaned in closer, daring to come within kissing distance of the strawberry's lips.

He felt frozen, his legs weren't cooperating. His body wasn't cooperating. His mind was cooperating. This wasn't a memory. It wasn't a post-traumatic torment. It was real. It was current. It was fresh. It was happening right now.

Ichigo let out a pained grunt as his back hit a nearby wall, Ulquiorra pinning him in place with one hand, he struggled violently, kicking out as terror bit into his very Soul and made his eyes sting with fear. He'd survived Ulquiorra's touch once, but he didn't know if he had the strength to do it a second time.

Strong fingers fisted in his hair, swinging him around until his hands and knees were scuffing on the tarmac, his face forced down against the curb as Ulquiorra overpowered his unresponsive form. His eyes were wide, staring down the street as he felt the other man tearing at his shihakusho, teeth tormenting the scar on his shoulder, the bite mark left from last time.

He could feel fingers yanking at his hakama. History was repeating itself. He wasn't strong enough to fight back. He wasn't powerful enough to overcome Ulquiorra's strength.

_'No.'_ Ichigo thought suddenly, eyes regaining life as his teeth clenched painfully, _'That's not true... I'm **not** weak! I'm **not** letting history repeat itself! Hueco Mundo was his playground... But this is mine!'_

He was _angry_. Enraged. Furious. Boiling. Overflowing. Erupting. Rage bursting forth as he released an ear-bleeding screech. He heard the volcanic shattering of glass from the skyscrapers around them as his reiatsu gushed out of his body, throwing Ulquiorra away with enough force to demolish an entire building.

Ichigo was on his feet, breath coming in short sharp gasps as he turned, murderous gaze finding the former Cuatro Espada. He wasn't a toy. He wasn't a plaything. He wasn't a bug to be crushed by an _Espada_. Ulquiorra had only ever been the Cuatro. But he... _He_ was the Cero Espada.

“You will never touch me again.” He said slowly, back straightening as his shihakusho reformed across his chest at will, “You will not touch me in my Inner World. You will not touch me in Hueco Mundo. You will not touch me!”

His fingers tightened as he felt the hilt of Zangetsu form in his hands, the body sized blade lifting high above his head despite his eyes never once leaving Ulquiorra's face, “You've tormented me for long enough. My waking and sleeping hours. My life is not yours to destroy. My body is not yours to violate! You're nothing! Nobody! You're not even an Espada anymore! But even if you were... You'd have no right to me. No right to my body or Soul!”

The ground was shaking beneath his feet as brilliant blue energy engulfed him, wrapping around his sword like a coiling snake ready to strike. He was done being weak. He was done being frightened. He was Ichigo Kurosaki. He was the Head of the Shiba Clan. He was Division Six's Fukutaichou. He was going to be Byakuya Kuchiki's husband!

“I CAST YOU OUT!” He roared as he brought his sword down with a flourish, screaming at the top of his lungs as he pushed every inch of his power behind the blow.

Chestnut eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Ulquiorra's body disappear within the righteous blue flames of the Getsuga Tenshou, seemingly ripped in every direction before he could even speak. As the energy cloud faded and dispersed, Ichigo felt a sudden weightlessness. A lightness he hadn't felt ever since Ulquiorra's original attack.

He felt dizzy. Light headed. Whole. He felt the chains of humiliation finally snapping. He felt free.

But in that moment of clarity he felt something else, something far more uncertain and alien. He could recall the Hōgyoku, its thrum of power, its swirling cascades of energy. It's Soul. He could recall Shiro's fascination, his feeling of belonging. Of being drawn into it.

“Aibou!” Shiro's voice came from his right and Ichigo watched as the albino version of himself sprinted down the street towards him.

“Shiro? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine... I sensed Ulquiorra... I sensed the fight... Ya beat him?” Golden eyes seemed surprised as they appraised the ruined section of buildings.

“I... I did. He's gone. I... I finally beat him.” He couldn't help but let a small smile stretch across his lips, that weightless feeling of elation lifting his spirits.

“I'm glad, I really am, but... Listen... I know what ya know from yer talk. There was some of his reiatsu still in here. It must have been blockin' some kind of memory or connection because as soon as he was gone...” The albino spoke so quickly he almost seemed to trip over his words.

“What is it?” The strawberry rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I heard the Hōgyoku once Ulquiorra's presence was gone and... It's Aizen! He's accelerated his plans! He doesn't need to wait, he's ready! Ya gotta warn Byakuya! Ya gotta make the Shinigami ready! If he succeeds in makin' the Ōken... Soul Society will fall!” Shiro gasped out, “He's going to move in three days!”

“Three days?!” He exclaimed, “Shit!”

He fled his Inner World with an inelegant jolt, back smashed against the wall of his office, causing his head to bow uncomfortable as he slumped and hit the floor for a second time, gasping harshly as he recalled every detail of what had happened inside his Inner World. The strawberry leapt to his feet, sprinting from his office without so much as locking the door.

Despite his rush, he could feel the change in himself. His scars no longer prickled or burned. They no longer itched like something was trapped beneath them. He'd cleansed himself. Cleansed himself of Ulquiorra's reiatsu and the shame he'd carried as a result of his attack. He was free. He felt strong. He felt ready to fight. Truly ready.

Bounding further up the hill towards Byakuya's office, he threw the door open and almost fell into the room, panting harshly as he stared at the raven haired man who was sat behind his desk. Byakuya looked ready to scold him for his impolite entrance, but whatever words had been on the tip of his tongue died as he saw Ichigo's expression.

“What has happened?” The Taichou asked immediately, standing up sharply.

“It's Aizen!” The strawberry exclaimed, “We only have three days!”

“What?!” The usually composed man hissed, eyes widening.

“He's going to attack Karakura town in three days!” He said again, “We have to tell the others, they have to finish the Tenkai Ketchu before then!”

“How do you know this?” Byakuya asked, striding around his desk swiftly and resting his hands on the strawberry's arms, “An update from Shiro's memories?”

“Sort of... Not entirely...” He paused, swallowing hard, “My dreams about Ulquiorra... They weren't just dreams. They were real. When Ulquiorra raped me he imbued my wounds with his own reiatsu. An insurance policy in case he died or was injured. He sealed part of himself in my body. He's been using it to torment me... I... I defeated him, at last. And instantly Shiro was able to tell me... He heard the Hōgyoku, and Aizen's plans.”

“Ulquiorra did what?” The nobleman looked horrified as he pulled the sunrise haired man into his embrace, holding him close, “I'm so very proud of you for defeating him. That's... Incredible news. Are you certain Shiro is telling the truth though?”

“I believe him. Implicitly.” He said with certainty, “I know it sounds crazy, but please believe me. Aizen will attack Karakura town in three days!”

Seeming to consider his words for a long moment, the raven haired Shinigami let out a small sigh, “I believe you. I want you to go and find Renji and Rukia, tell them what you told me. In the meantime I will go and see Kyōraku and Ukitake and relay the information to them. They can see to informing the others. With any luck, the Tenkai Ketchu can be put in place before we run out of time, but the recreation of a false Karakura town might have to be a rush job.”

Ichigo nodded, grateful that his fiancé believed him and was willing to act on the new information, “Thank you! Thank you! I'll go now. I'll meet you back here before we go to Gin's memorial.”

* * *

Sôkyoku Hill was packed with people, the entirety of Division Three had turned out to pay respects to its fallen Taichou while scatterings from the other Divisions stood near their respective superiors. The atmosphere was tense, not only because of the nature of the gathering but because of the wild fire news which had spread through Seireitei.

Ichigo's information had been believed and as a result Kurotsuchi and Nemu, along with the rest of Division Twelve were absent from the memorial, having to dedicate their time to constructing the fake Karakura town with the small amount of time they had left.

The strawberry haired Shinigami himself was stood beside Byakuya, currently listening to Kyōraku's eulogy as a large pyre was set alight behind the man, commemorating a life which could only be described as sneaky and crude. That description drew a few chuckles from the crowd, especially from Matsumoto and Kira.

Smiling slightly, Ichigo could still remember the first time he had met Gin. It had been the end of his third year at Shino, around the same time Aizen had begun to let him in on his plans.

_Standing inside the Taichou's office in Division Five, he had not long finished the tour of the Division he had been promised a place at after his graduation. It was impressive and the Shinigami were polite and diligent, if not immaculate and well behaved. It seemed that Aizen was something of a strict leader in and out of the bedroom._

_Folding his arms as he leaned against one of the many bookshelves, he allowed his eyes to wander across the many spines and many titles that leapt out to meet him. None really took his interest, but it was at least mildly entertaining to see what Aizen liked._

_Standing abruptly straight as he heard the door open, the strawberry peeked around, a short sting of excitement seeping into him as he saw the brunet haired Shinigami sweep into the office, followed closely by a silver haired man with a perpetual smile on his face._

“ _Aizen Taichou.” Ichigo greeted._

“ _Ichigo, a pleasure to see you. I trust you enjoyed the tour?” Came the smooth reply as the man took a seat behind his desk._

“ _It was... Interesting.” He answered with a half shrug, still eyeing the silver haired man, he noted the haori instantly, “You must be Ichimaru Taichou, from Division Three.”_

“ _Good eyes, kid.” The man replied, never opening his eyes, “Is this him, Aizen Taichou?”_

“ _Yes, Gin.” Aizen sighed, “Gin is one of my subordinates, Ichigo, and is an ally to our cause. However... He is a pervert so do not be afraid to strike him if he tries anything untoward with you.”_

“ _Ne, Aizen Taichou, don't go puttin' him off before I've even had a chance to say hello properly!” An exasperated sigh escaped the silver haired man as he strode forwards and slung an arm around the younger man's shoulders, “Ichigo huh? A cute little strawberry... I think I'm gonna call ya Ichi-Berry!”_

Opening his eyes, Ichigo smiled a little brighter at the memory. He'd found the nickname distasteful but it had stuck, and he had almost always been 'Ichi-Berry' to Gin. Looking back on it, he kind of appreciated the man's quirks. He'd miss that nickname. He'd miss the not so subtle innuendos. He'd miss that creepy smile that had followed him around rooms before.

He glanced around, watching as those present clasped their hands together condensing small portions of their reiatsu into glimmering orbs, used to represent the soul of the person they were mourning. With a soft breath escaping him, Ichigo joined them and released his globe of glowing reiatsu in unison with the other Shinigami present, Ichigo cast his eyes skywards, watching the beautiful sight of thousands of glowing spheres floating away, reminiscent of a Shinigami's Soul being absorbed by Soul Society after death.

“ _I'm going to get him Gin. For you, for mum and dad, Karin and Yuzu, and everyone else he hurt. I'll end this. I promise... No matter what it takes.”_ Ichigo made his vow silently, heart thundering with the weight of the words.

He meant it.


	75. Pre-War Drinks And Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the Winter War is upon Soul Society, and as a final hurrah Ichigo and Byakuya host a celebration at the mansion, allowing their friends and family to mingle before the battle unfolds. Towards the end of the evening, a curious remark from Kyoraku sparks Ichigo's mind into over drive, and he sets off for some late night investigations that could reveal all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of uploading the latest chapter, on Sunday night I had to have my 16 year old cat put to sleep, and I haven't felt much like doing anything since. But I'm starting to get back on track now, so I hope you enjoy the chapter and the twists the story still has to offer. Many thanks as always for your support towards this story.

Ichigo leaned back in his seat, smiling softly as he looked around the large dining table which was currently packed with assorted food and drink, all of which was being tucked into by a selection of his and Byakuya's friends.

It was the night before they were due to leave for the World of the Living. With the weight of the world on their shoulders, the pair decided a meal with their nearest and dearest would be a good distraction for everyone involved and the Kuchiki heir had kindly offered the dining room in the Kuchiki mansion to host it.

At present, the subtle sounds of music were mostly being drowned out by Matsumoto's rambunctious laughter as she teased Hisagi and Kira about their love lives, while Ikkaku and Yumichika were busy talking about battle strategy and aesthetics with Renji.

Rukia was happily comparing Kidō techniques with Nanao and Hitsugaya with an occasional input from Ukitake. All of which resulted in Kyōraku flirting excessively with Kūkaku, the former Shiba Clan Head didn't seem to mind, although Ganju looked like he would skin the man if he so much as laid a finger on his sister.

Sipping his saké as he watched the joyous scene, the strawberry glanced over at his fiancé, flashing him a placid smile, “Enjoying yourself?”

“I'm content.” The nobleman replied, “This will do wonders for morale, as well as giving us a chance to spend time with the people we care about.”

“I couldn't agree more. Thank you, for letting us use the mansion.” The strawberry reached over and laced their fingers together.

“It was a pleasure.” Byakuya lifted their hands and gently kissed Ichigo's knuckles affectionately, “Everything will work out, and when the war is over we can meet here again for a celebration.”

“That sounds perfect.” He murmured.

“So when are you two going to set a date?” Ganju called over, grinning smugly at their matching surprised expressions.

“Yeah come on, I want to know when I have to get a new kimono ready!” Matsumoto clapped her hands excitedly.

“Noble weddings are a big thing right?” Yumichika mused, resting his chin on the back of his hand, “I expect it will be all flash and beautiful. Not that either of you need to be made any more beautiful than you already are, I've scarcely seen such an attractive couple in Seireitei.”

“And that's one hell of a compliment from him.” Renji snorted.

“Well...” Ichigo chuckled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck before he gently fussed with his yukata, “We were planning for after the war concludes but other than that... We don't really have any ideas yet... Do we?”

“Not yet.” Byakuya agreed, “Though, springtime in Seireitei is always beautiful.”

“Oh a springtime wedding after a winter war! There's something poetic about that.” Kyōraku hummed, tipping his hat with a small smirk.

Ichigo paused and considered it, glancing at Byakuya for a long moment, “Springtime?”

The raven haired noble held his gaze, the smallest of smiles turning his lips upwards, “Springtime.” he agreed.

The strawberry jumped as there was an abrupt outburst of cheers from their friends, but he immediately broke into a wide toothy grin and laughed at the enthusiasm with which Matsumoto demanded another round of drinks to celebrate.

He joined in, carefully tapping his saké bowl against as many others as he could reach before downing the liquid, his throat burned from it but the subtle heady warmth that rose afterwards was pleasant.

It was only a few hours later when the mansion began to empty, everyone more than aware that they needed a decent night of rest and a distinct lack of a hangover so that they could fight with clear minds in the World of the Living. The seriousness of it had never entirely left them, but a few hours of relaxation and friendly banter had made it easier to deal with. It was the first time Ichigo had encountered such a thing, and it had felt good. Felt right.

Ichigo joined Byakuya at the front door, bidding farewell to their tipsy and merry guests. He granted each of them a hug, even Ikkaku had indulged his sentimentality for once.

Kyōraku was the last person to step over the threshold, pausing on the doorstep before he turned to look at the pair, lifting the rim of his hat as he appraised the younger Shinigami, “Kurosaki-san... Tomorrow will be a big day for all of us. But more so for you. If your information is correct, we will be facing the Espada and they will all be fighting against their will. It will be a hard fight, especially for you who was designated their leader. I despise meaningless conflict, but I loath meaningless killing even more. If you can find anyway to deactivate Aizen's hold over them... Please use it.”

The sunrise haired man swallowed hard at his words and he bowed his head, “I barely got to know them myself. But... Shiro knew them all, knew them well. Even while they feared him, feared his insanity and his willingness to tear them apart if he was ordered... He grew to care about them more than he realised. Neither of us want them to suffer. They risked their lives to save us. If I can free them... If I have any chance at all... I'll do it.”

The new Sou-Taichou's expression softened and he released a sigh, “I am truly pleased to have you, and your Hollow side, with us in this war. I'm proud of you for breaking away from Aizen's influence, and proud that you have made better choices for yourself. You should be proud as well.”

“T-Thank you, Kyōraku Taichou.” He smiled innocently and felt his face warm, “I'm glad I have the opportunity to fight and protect the people I love.”

“Love is a powerful motivator.” The pink kimono clad man gazed off towards where Ukitake was waiting for him, “Perhaps we will all be so lucky as to be so open with our feelings one day.”

Ichigo's smile brightened as he looked between two of the longest serving Shinigami, “Whether we can be open with them or not... As long as we have at least one person to share them with everything has a way of working out.”

“My goodness, those eyes of yours see far don't they?” Kyōraku chuckled, “You truly are like an entirely different person these days, Kurosaki-san. Goodnight.”

“That was kind of you.” Byakuya whispered as they watched Kyōraku stroll down the path, greeting Ukitake halfway.

“Well... Once upon a time, all I ever wanted to hear was that everything would be okay. I think everyone needs to hear it sometimes.” He shrugged and turned to go back into the house, he paused however and frowned faintly, staring into the entrance hall.

The Kuchiki heir noticed his sudden halt and tilted his head, “Is all well?”

“Yeah... Yes I just...” The strawberry rubbed his chin in thought, “An entirely different person?”

Blinking, Byakuya quirked an eyebrow as he could almost hear his lover's mind working, “What are you thinking?”

“I'm not sure... It's probably nothing but...” He turned on the spot, still just able to see Kyōraku's pink kimono in the distance, “I just need to check something and make sure... Do you mind?”

“I know you well enough by now, to know that you would never rest while something is troubling you. Do you desire company?”

“Mm, you should get some rest. I'm sure it won't take long. I'll be back soon.” Ichigo smiled and kissed him sweetly, “Thanks for understanding.”

“Very well, be careful.” The nobleman leaned into the kiss and stroked his cheek softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too!” He said before he ran off down the pathway.

Ichigo hastily rushed after the Sou-Taichou, he could still see the swish of the man's kimono as well as the illumination of Ukitake's hair under the moonlight.

“Kyōraku Taichou! Ukitake Taichou!” He called out, “Please wait! Kyōraku Taichou!”

The two men stopped so suddenly that Ichigo nearly bumped straight into them both, he panted softly as he stopped just short and rested his hands on his knees.

“Ichigo-kun.” Ukitake blinked at him, “Did we forget something?”

“No... No it's not that. Sorry to disturb you.” He straightened and clasped his hands together, “It's just... Something you said, Kyōraku Taichou, set me off thinking. I wondered if... If I could have permission to visit Norio in the Central Great Underground Prison?”

“That's a bold request, Kurosaki-san.” There was an uncomfortable stillness in Kyōraku's voice.

“I'm more than aware that it is not usual practice for a Fukutaichou to be admitted into that prison but... I need to check something. For my own peace of mind more than anything else.” He dabbed his tongue across his lips, “I'll willingly surrender my Zanpakutō at the entrance, and I'm capable of handling myself in hand to hand combat if anything was to get out control. Please.”

Letting out a small breath, the man rested a hand on his hip and the other on his chin, seemingly considering the request deeply, “Very well. But I want a detailed report of _why_ when you are finished. You can hand it to me tomorrow before we leave for Karakura.”

“Thank you Kyōraku Sou-Taichou!” He accepted the prison pass he was handed from in the depths of the man's uniform and rushed off without delay.

Not far from the Estate he caught up with Hitsugaya, a nagging urge forcing him to make a request of the Division Ten Taichou as well.

“You want me to go and baby sit Zaraki Kenpachi?” The smaller built male blinked.

“Not baby sit... Just... Make sure he's alright.” The strawberry bit his lip, “Look, I don't have a lot of time to explain but, doesn't it seem odd to you that Aizen's assassin would just disappear after he was discovered? If he's that capable of hiding for that long... Doesn't it make sense that he would hide until he could cause the maximum damage? The night before we go to war seems almost too perfect. Zaraki Taichou is one of the strongest fighters we have... Of course he'd be a target.”

The white haired Taichou sighed deeply, “Regretfully it sounds plausible. Very well, I will drop by Division Eleven before retiring for the night.”

Relaxing with relief, Ichigo smiled, “Thank you Hitsugaya Taichou!” He barely lingered for another moment before he continued on his journey to Division One.

* * *

As he arrived outside of the Sou-Taichou's Division he sucked in a sharp breath, steeling himself to discover if his suspicions were right or wrong. He glanced behind him, faintly seeing the still blooming tips of the blossom trees that lay in the distance to signify the Kuchiki Clan's presence. As much as he longed to be curled up in bed with his fiancé the night before they went to war, he had responsibilities now and he couldn't ignore the call to arms his gut was giving him.

“How would I ever face Byakuya if I ignored this feeling?” He shook his head and stalked into the Division with his head held high, prison pass clutched tightly in his fist.

Gaining entry to the Prison was far easier than Ichigo had expected. Upon showing his prison pass to the lone guard on duty he had been personally escorted down the spiralling staircase which seemed to descend for evermore into darkness. Indeed, it was only when he and his escort reached the bottom of the staircase that flaming torches began to reappear along the winding hallways, casting an overly theatrical and menacing illumination across the ancient brick walls and floors.

As they moved along, Ichigo could feel a constant drain upon his reiatsu, and he soon realised that the bricks lining the hallways were sekkiseki stone. The further they went, the more of his reiatsu was dampened.

The prison was separated into eight different levels, he had learnt about this during his time in the Academy, as all Shinigami did. While he couldn't quite remember the names of all the floors, he knew for certain that the third level was called Shugo and was used to imprison those who had dared to use forbidden Kidō, such as Tessai. The lowest level, the eighth, was Muken. Muken was a voided space completely sealed off from the outside world, aside from the main tower which served as an entrance and an exit. As far as he was aware, only criminals whose hearts could not be stopped by any means were kept there. He fleetingly wondered if himself and Shiro could have counted among that moment at one time or another.

A cold shudder crept along his spine like frigid fingers, and he couldn't help but react to it. They were currently entering the very tower which served as an entrance and exit to each level. There was another vast spiral staircase, which would taken them even further beneath Division One.

His destination, he had discovered from the guard who was leading him, was Kyōkan – the fourth level. It was reserved for those who had committed treason against Seireitei, or against nobility. It struck Ichigo as odd that Byakuya had pretended not to know where his cousin would be kept, he could only assume it was because the man had determined to forget Norio ever existed.

As they exited the staircase, Ichigo flexed his fingers at his side, accepting the flame torch from the guard as he was shown along the desperately vast area beyond. Kyōkan was a single, huge spiral corridor which wrapped around the main tower. It was suspended in a sub-space not overly dissimilar to that of Muken, except that the only thing severed was outside sound.

“The silence drives most of 'em mad within the first few weeks.” The guard grunted, trudging along the hall as he lead the way to Norio's cell, “All we tend to hear is their screaming. It got its' name because of that actually.”

“How... Lovely.” The strawberry grimaced, unable to stop himself glancing at the solid steel doors which concealed their respective cells. There were tiny flaps at eye level, he assumed they were opened to check that prisoners were still alive, and to deliver food through.

“Gotta say, sir, we don't get many visitors down here. Is there a special reason that you need to see 'im?”

“Nothing overly concerning.” Ichigo replied, “Just... Tying up some loose ends before the war starts.”

“Ah, I quite understand, Kurosaki Fukutaichou.”

They fell silent again, slowly approaching the lowest point of the level, the end of the curling hallway. Ichigo tensed, ready to see if his instincts were on point, or if he'd been mistaken after all.

“Here we are, sir.” The guard stopped suddenly, turning to face the very last cell, “This is the cell Norio Kuchiki was assigned.”

Frowning at the strange way in which he was introduced, Ichigo rolled his shoulders, “Alright, open it up please.”

“Of course, sir.”

With a jangle of keys, the guard popped the correct one into the lock. Two twists left, one twist right, the cell door creaked open to admit entrance. Ichigo slipped past and stepped just inside the doorway, freezing at the sight he was greeted with.

Corpses.

Dozens upon dozens of corpses, stacked in piles across the frigid cold room. Blood splattered the walls and the floor, dried and blackened with age, though fresher scarlet was prominent too. The bodies were in various stages of decomposition, the pungent odour of death and rot and mottled flesh made him wretch. The sight of maggot-riddled limbs sent a hot sweat throughout his body, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose as he tried not to throw up.

He wanted to look away. He _needed_ to look away. But he couldn't. There were too many recognisable shihakusho, too many Shinigami in the piles... Why hadn't their bodies turned to reishi? Why had they been stacked and kept and placed and...

“What the fuck... Is going on...” He gagged out, turning to look at the guard.

Ichigo grunted as he received a hard kick to the chest, it was strong enough to throw him off his feet, further into the cell. He landed in the ragged, fetid pile of corpses, drawing a startled screech from his lunges as he scrambled to his feet, eyes lifting as the guard stepped forward into the light.

He watched as the man's hair and skin began to droop as if loose against his skull, growing mottled and aged as it almost appeared to melt away, dripping in gloopy splatters on the floor. For the briefest of moments, Ichigo could see a scorched and blackened skull. With a snap like elastic the guard straightened up and the strawberry met a pair of familiar blue eyes.

“Norio?!” He exclaimed, fingers flexing anxiously at his sides.

“Good evening, Ichigo Kurosaki.” The former Head Elder clasped his hands together behind his back, a sickeningly twisted smile spreading across his face, “I wonder if you'd be so kind as to share with me... Those loose ends you wanted to tie up.”

Stomach churning, lurching momentarily he grabbed the wall for support, “Just a hunch. Something I wanted to confirm.”

“Do tell me more, I'm so interested.”

Chestnut eyes narrowing, Ichigo clenched his teeth, “I have to say... You've got his condescending tone of voice just about perfect. But you won't fool me again. I know.”

“Ah, I see...” The Kuchiki Elder chortled, eyebrows lifting in amusement, “So the game is up then?”

“Oh yeah.” The strawberry growled, “You are not Norio Kuchiki. You're Aizen's assassin! The Hollow... The shape shifting Hollow... The one who killed Yamamoto and Sasakibe...”

“Correct.” The false Norio never stopped smirking, “How did you know... That something was wrong?”

“I didn't.” He said honestly, “I didn't have a clue. But then someone said something to me, something about me seeming like a completely different person and it just... Clicked. Byakuya told me that normally a Head Elder would be overjoyed by the prospect of two noble families coming together in marriage, he said it seemed odd that you'd still be so... Disgusted by my presence. Then, in addition, your willingness to send us off to Hueco Mundo to 'rescue' Byakuya. All along, your only plan was to ensure I ended up at Aizen's side, where I belonged.”

He began to clap, laughing loudly, “You are far smarter than I was told! Your ability to see the finer details is truly impressive, Kurosaki!”

“So, do you have a name?”

“I am Izanshi.” Came a frigid reply, “Aizen-sama created me for a single-minded purpose.”

“Infiltration, assassination, replacement. You can create multiple bodies... Each with a different appearance...” Ichigo swallowed hard, glancing at the bodies behind him, “And these... These must be your victims... So many... My God...”

“Again, I must compliment your intelligence. You are correct.” The fake Norio folded his arms, leaning casually against the door frame, “I would have had more time in their bodies had you not escaped Division Two. Somehow, Kyōraku and Ukitake became suspicious... It became impossible to maintain the facade. What a waste.”

Scowling, he felt his blood boiling, “So... What... In order to change into someone's skin you have to kill them?”

“Not at all, that's so barbaric!” Izanshi snorted, walking towards him.

Ichigo flinched, watching as Norio's appearance began to change just like before. The sagging, the melting, the mottling, the disgusting sickly sound of flesh slapping against the stone floor. But this time, no Shinigami face rose in replacement.

Easily as tall as Starrk had been, and only slightly thinner, Izanshi was oddly angelic in his true form. Scarlet hair was shoulder length, slicked back like a mane; the remnant of his Hollow mask seemed to take the form of a thin bone circlet that ran across his forehead and disappeared into his hair, two small horn-like adornments pointed upwards to the ceiling. His skin was as white as snow, and his blood red eyes were ringed by a darkness that could only be roused by lack of sleep. Yet he was beautiful. Scarily beautiful.

“Then what is it?” He asked, voice cracking just slightly, “How do you change forms?”

“It is simply what I was designed to do. I am unique among the Arrancar, my power gives me the ability to feed on the reiatsu of chosen individuals, once I have consumed enough I can alter my appearance and take on their forms. Their looks, their smell, their sound, even their abilities and powers. Make no mistake, Ichigo Kurosaki, I am a spy and an assassin, but my strength easily rivals that of the Espada.” He sounded so proud, so smug, “The beauty in my power is that it is flawless.”

“Well, it's not is it? Because I realised.” Ichigo snorted, folding his arms, “I wouldn't call that flawless.”

Growling, Izanshi turned his back on the strawberry, “It hardly seems to matter what you think. You were foolish enough to enter that cell. You can remain here until Aizen-sama wins the war, then he will come to Soul Society, he will use the Ōken! And when he has slain the untrue King, he will come here to the prison and he will claim you himself.”

Ichigo sucked in a breath, despite the cold and the ungodly smell of rotting bodies, he forced himself to be calm. He'd been trained to do this. He'd been trained to hold his nerve, to reserve his strength and find an advantage. He might have lost Aizen's favour, he might have regained his emotions and memories... But he had never lost his training.

“I have just... Two more questions before you leave, or whatever it is you're planning.” Ichigo rested his forehead in his hand, looking at the stained floor between his feet as he sat down in the only available chair, “There are a lot of Shinigami corpses in here... Why haven't they turned into reishi? And were there any other Taichou class Shinigami you impersonated?”

“I drain their reiatsu, it doesn't leave enough to permit them to turn into reishi.” Izanshi shrugged, “There was one girl... Annoying little thing from Division Five. Used to cling onto Aizen-sama's shadow as tightly as possible. Aizen-sama wanted her presence in Division Five even after he left, to garner information... Hina... Something...”

“Hinamori?” Ichigo breathed, his chest tightening in disbelief.

“Yeah, that's the one.”

“And she's... Dead?” His voice grew quieter.

“Well, I didn't need much from her, so I finished her off once I'd taken enough reiatsu. She was so shocked by Aizen-sama's betrayal that she didn't even fight back.” He giggled, “Then there was Yamamoto, Sasakibe, and now you.”

“I see.” His heart was aching, his stomach was churning, his eyes were stinging, “You have my thanks, for your forthrightness on the matter.”

“It won't change anything... You can't stop the grind of time now, Kurosaki. Aizen-sama will destroy Karakura town, he will make the Ōken and he will tear Soul Society apart with his power! But before that happens... I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

Ichigo felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him back in the chair, he could smell the Hollow's breath and it reeked of rotting flesh and death. A hard grip pinched his face and he was forced to look up, forced to meet that bloodied gaze, his own eyes widening as he watched Izanshi's lips part. A long, violet snake-like tongue slithered out from his mouth, tickling against Ichigo's cheek before it forced its way into his mouth.

He retched, struggling against his grasp. He felt a chill, a violent shaking coldness that seemed to rise up from his core, flooding his body, making his skin prickle painfully. Izanshi's grip was powerful, he gagged as the tongue slipped further down his throat, he began to feel a horrific pulling sensation and Ichigo watched as tiny orbs of pale blue reiatsu began to float between them, the purple appendage began to glow.

Izanshi... He was draining his reiatsu! He might not kill him through fear of angering Aizen, but that didn't mean he couldn't still take enough to use later. This was bad. Really bad. His throat constricted, bile scalding his oesophagus. Fingers twitching at his sides, he released a muffled growl of anger and without warning summoned his Hollow mask between the digits, bringing his hand up sharply.

He heard a sickening squelch as one of his horns speared the Hollow through the throat, blood splashed his hair and arms as he jumped to his feet and tore his horn free. Ichigo watched as Izanshi released a wet screech of pain, recoiling as he clutched at the wound to stem the flow of blood.

Gagging as he was released, the strawberry covered his mouth, the taste of rot still lingered, but he was sure he'd managed to break the connection before he could be severely harmed.

“You sneaky... Dirty... Bastard!” The Hollow roared furiously, hissing as he backed away hastily.

“You've got a nerve to call me sneaky and dirty. You disgusting... Murdering scum!” He shouted in retaliation, stomping towards him, determined to finish the job.

Izanshi's eyes widened as he realised Ichigo's plan and he fled the cell, slamming the door shut behind him before he peered through the eye slit smugly, “I might not be able to steal your reiatsu but having you locked away is more than enough of an advantage. Without you present... The Shinigami will fall at Aizen's hand. They will die.”

“No!” Ichigo slammed his hands against the door, pounding at the metal with his fists as he threw his mask aside, “Let me out! Let me out right now! Fuck!”

Izanshi was gone. Leaving Ichigo alone, trapped and weakened. The strawberry let out a hoarse cry of frustration as he sank to his knees, head hanging low. If Izanshi's words were to be believed Hinamori had been dead since Aizen had left Soul Society, and the Hollow had been taking her place for social and official meetings ever since. It was a horrendous feeling to know that he hadn't noticed the difference in her, that he hadn't realised something was wrong.

Hinamori had died alone, probably scared and confused. And he hadn't even realised. The feelings of guilt were only intensified when he realised there was a very good reason for him not realising the difference in her behaviour.

“I never cared enough... To get to know her before... Before he...” He gnashed his teeth together as a sob threatened to break free, “Fucking... Damn it!”

He acknowledged that his previous lack of emotions was responsible for him not having known her well enough to notice any kind of difference in her behaviour. He'd only taken the time to get to know the version of Hinamori that Izanshi had shown him.

His heart sank. Remembering his engagement party in Rukongai, she'd seemed to genuine... So real... So kind and soft and gentle. They'd laughed together. Partied together. Drunk together. And yet it... It had all be lies. It hadn't been Hinamori... It... It had been Izanshi playing a role...

“Fuck...” He croaked, punching the wall as hard as he could, he watched as spider web rivets crackled from beneath his knuckles. He swore again. Louder. Almost screaming it.

What were the chances of someone finding him before morning? Only Kyōraku and Ukitake knew where he had gone. No one would hear his shouts, no one would sense his reiatsu. The apocalyptic silence of Kyōkan's stasis would ensure it.

Turning from the door slowly, hesitantly, Ichigo stared at the heaps of bodies behind him. He had grown used to the stench thankfully, but it still seemed stifling. His heart clenched painfully, but he approached and gently began moving the bodies. He needed to see if he recognised anyone else. He needed to know who had fallen victim... How many imposters there might be out there... It was a horrendous job, but he needed to know.

He found one or two unseated Shinigami from Division Six, several more from Divisions Five, Eight and Twelve. He also found the Third Seat of Division Four, Yasochika Iemura. Despite being half blind from tears, he continued, sniffling through his sadness as he found the real body of Norio Kuchiki. The Head Elder was almost unrecognisable, clearly Izanshi had taken his form a long time ago, undoubtedly part of the reason for the tension between Norio and Byakuya was the fact that one of them was an imposter.

Ichigo only stopped when he finally found Hinamori, she too was in a bad way, not as bad as Norio or some of the others but bad enough that he finally broke down. He cried, sobbing harshly as he sat against the wall nearest the door, his head in his hands.

He had no idea how much time had passed, whether morning had come yet or not. Just as he doubted anyone would sense his reiatsu, he couldn't sense anything beyond the cell walls. He couldn't help but feel foolish, it had been a reckless act to investigate alone. If Izanshi was right... If no one found him... He'd almost certainly doomed the Goeti Thirteen.

He'd vowed to keep Byakuya and Renji safe for Rukia's sake.

He'd vowed to defeat Aizen for Gin and Shinji.

He'd vowed to free the Espada.

He had failed. He had failed them all.


	76. The Winter War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war begins.

Byakuya groaned, eyes fluttering open as the warmth of the morning sunrise filtered through the bedroom window and crept across the bed, blinding him momentarily until his eyes adjusted to the brightness. The raven haired nobleman sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before his gaze dropped to the empty space beside him.

“Ichigo...” He frowned, voice soft from sleep.

He had grown tired the night before, and had decided to wait for his fiancé in bed but sleep had clearly stolen him away and yet Ichigo was still absent. There were no recent traces of his reiatsu around the room, nor anywhere else in the mansion. Just where was he at this hour?

Sliding from bed, the nobleman ran a bath and washed quickly before returning to the bedroom to dry off and dress, he shrugged on the freshly cleaned hakama and shihakusho taking particular interest in ensuring his Zanpakutō was fastened perfectly in place, not wanting to find it even an inch out of place when the time came to use it.

His stomach fluttered at the thought, and his fingers brushed over the tekkō Harribel had given him. It pained the man to recognise that in a few hours he would likely be crossing blades with the very Espada he had befriended, it was an even harsher reality for knowing they were being forced to fight against their will.

Shaking free of such thoughts, Byakuya slipped the gloves into place and ran a brush through his hair, setting it in its usual style as he attached his kenseikan. A brief glance in the mirror assured him that all was well with his appearance and as a final touch he pulled on his haori and draped his family's scarf around his shoulders, briefly inhaling the familiar scent of the fabric as it was rustled by his skin.

Still troubled when he couldn't sense Ichigo anywhere, the nobleman left their shared quarters and descended the staircase, breakfast was already waiting for him when he arrived in the dining room and he ate in silence, occasionally glancing at the empty seat opposite him where Ichigo had taken to sitting in the mornings.

Steel eyes flicked upwards as the private attendant's door opened, his expression softening only slightly as he watched Momoru peek her head through the gap, “Come up, there's no need to hide out of sight.” He called out.

“Thank you, Byakuya-sama.” The shy woman slid the door shut behind her and walked to his side, bowing respectfully.

“Is everything well?” He asked, looking up at her. She had aged since his childhood, crows feet nestled in the corners of her eyes and there were streaks of grew through her hair now, but she was still loyal, still joyful, still proud of serve.

“All is well, Byakuya-sama.” Momoru replied softly, clearing her through before she sank to her knees and rested her hands in her lap, “I wished to... Express my desire of good fortune upon your battle today. I... Desperately wish for you to return home safely Byakuya-sama, with Ichigo-sama. This house has seen so much sadness, so much death and loss. But there has been such delight since he arrived. Like someone has placed fresh kindling in the fires and allowed them to burn brighter again.”

Byakuya looked down at her and sighed, he rose from his seat and slowly knelt in front of her, resting one hand on her head and the other over her clasped hands, “Momoru you have served this family for a long time, I would be lost without your presence here. I give you my word I will do everything I can to ensure we both return safely after today.”

“Thank you Byakuya-sama.” She smiled sweetly.

“Go on, get back to your duties now. Today will be over before you know it, and with some luck we will have a full house again tonight to celebrate.” He watched as she beat a hasty retreat back through the same door and sighed heavily as he finished his breakfast, “Now, if only I knew where my damned Fukutaichou ended up last night it would be fantastic.”

Rising from his seat again when he heard the subtle chime of the clock, the Division Six Taichou stalked from the mansion with his head held high, squinting against the watery winter sunlight that had turned significantly cooler since he had woken.

He paused only when he reached the gates, half turning on his heel to study the sight of his home one last time, if the worst did come to the worst he wanted his last thoughts to be of cold winter nights spent huddled around the grand fireplaces with his grandfather and father, Momoru reading him a bedtime story when his two paternal figures were at work, sunrise orange hair fanned out across pale pillow covers like rays of brilliant sunshine.

Byakuya's expression softened greatly at the thought and his lips turned upwards in a small sentimental smile, and then he turned and disappeared in a flicker of Shunpo as he headed for the Senkaimon where they would be gathering to enter the World of the Living.

As he arrived, he was greeted by the readied presence of Kyōraku and Ukitake, who had undoubtedly been the first to arrive. It wasn't long before Soi-Fon and Ōmaeda appeared, followed by Kira and Hisagi.

The two Fukutaichou looked nervous, on edge and utterly tense. He wasn't surprised. Hisagi would undoubtedly be faced with conflict from Tōsen when the battle erupted, forced to fight his mentor, the man he'd admired. And Kira... He was still struggling with Gin's death. The usually stoic, tolerant man would potentially be overwhelmed with battle rage at the sight of Aizen. It was a risk they all took.

Steel eyes flittered to the side as Komamura and Iba flickered into his vision, along side Hitsugaya and Matsumoto. They too made quite the imposing presence, all of them, in some way had some heavy hatred towards the treacherous Shinigami they'd be facing today. So much anger, so much hate. He supposed they were all in the same boat, at the end of the day.

He too hated Aizen, and perhaps... For once, he would allow his own rage to flow into his actions.

As Ikkaku and Yumichika prowled onto the scene, the Kuchiki heir couldn't help but notice the absence of their Taichou, and of course the vibrantly dressed form of their Science department.

“Are Kenpachi and Kurotsuchi not joining us?” He asked as he peered around, somehow wondering if he had missed them.

Ikkaku's expression was strained, “Kenpachi Taichou will... With some hope be joining us later. Once Unohana Taichou has finished healing him.”

“Healing him?” The noble repeated, “What happened?”

“It would appear Aizen's assassin struck again last night,” Hitsugaya murmured from beside them, his arms folded over his chest as he scowled into the distance, “Not only was Kenpachi targeted but myself and Unohana Taichou were as well.”

“What?” He breathed.

“It appears the assassin attacked Division Eleven first, and as unbelievable as it seems he almost killed Zaraki.” The small white haired male shook his head, expression pinched, “Unohana Taichou and myself interrupted before a finishing blow could be dealt, but we then came under attack as the perpetrator tried to escape. Our wounds were minor and were easily healed but... Zaraki's were far more serious.”

“How did you know to be at Division Eleven?” Byakuya frowned.

Frosty blue eyes fixed on him with sudden clarity, “I received a visit from your Fukutaichou shortly after midnight, he was concerned something like this might happen and begged me to go and investigate. I took Unohana Taichou as a precaution, it was a good thing that I did given the circumstances.”

“... Ichigo told you?”

“Did he not mention it to you?” Kyōraku frowned as he overheard their conversation.

Swallowing uncomfortably, the raven haired Shinigami tensed under their scrutiny, “Ichigo did not return to the mansion last night.”

“What?” A unison of voices exclaimed.

“The last time I saw him he said he needed to talk to you, Kyōraku.” He explained, “I ended up retiring for the night and when I woke... He had not returned.”

“This is bad.” Ukitake covered his mouth with his hand, a nervous action, “Ichigo-kun is our trump card against Aizen. You don't think the assassin...”

“Any assassin would have a shock if they tried to take him down.” Renji said sharply as he walked towards them, flanked by Rukia, “Sorry I'm late.”

“I know we all have tremendous belief in his skills but...”

“No, Renji is right.” Byakuya said firmly, jaw clenching, “Ichigo doesn't have any blind spots, what he can't see his Hollow can. No one would stand a chance of sneaking up on him, and I don't think anyone would easily win in a head to head fight, at least not without waking half of Seireitei with the conflict.”

“Then where the hell is he?” Soi-Fon growled.

“I don't know.” The noble admitted, “But... Wherever he is it must be for a good reason. He wouldn't abandon us now. Not when we need him the most.”

“I'll believe that when I see it.” The Division Two Taichou snorted, shaking her head as she walked away.

“Then, what of Kurotsuchi?” Byakuya pressed.

“He must remain in the real Karakura town to maintain the barrier. Nemu is assisting him.” Ukitake said swiftly.

Kyōraku released a long breath, glancing skywards to assess the time, “We can't afford to wait for any stragglers. I see Hinamori Fukutaichou is also absent, though given the nature of the fight that is probably wise. Kurosaki-san will have to catch up when he eventually arrives, we can't wait for him.”

Byakuya tensed, feeling his features tighten at the idea of leaving without learning where Ichigo had ended up and if he was alright, but he knew he couldn't abandon his duties for the sake of his lover. Not only would he be penalized by all present, but Ichigo would likely be infuriated to hear of it.

“Understood. I will contact Kisuke Urahara on the way, just in case...” The man murmured, hesitating for only a moment longer as he watched his comrades beginning to walk through the Senkaimon.

Fingers clenched tightly, the raven haired Shinigami strode forwards, lingering by the portal for a split second as he cast a final long look over Seireitei, he truly hoped Ichigo had simply been delayed and something far worse hadn't befallen him.

Turning his back on the city, he forced his expression to turn neutral. Without a shadow of a doubt, Byakuya knew he had shown far too much of his emotions while in Las Noches and there was simply no way he would make the same mistake again. He walked forwards, each step resounding in his ears with the weight of their task spiking through his body.

They were going to face the Espada, the very people who had helped save his life and the life of his sister and Ichigo's friends, the very people who were now being controlled against their will and had no choice in the matter, the very people who... Despite his best efforts to remain detached from them, had become his friends.

Teeth clenched, he joined the other Taichou class Shinigami and stepped out into the World of the Living, his lungs taking a moment to adjust to the drooped levels of reishi in the air and his body acclimatising to the altered sense of pressure around him.

It took him three heart stopping seconds to realise that on the other side of the fake Karakura town they had arrived in, were five monstrously sized Garganta already rippling across the bright blue sky.

Byakuya's heart sank as he saw the figures in the tears, fleeting flashes of pink hair and whiskey coloured eyes, of electric blue hair and a matching glower, of lanky body proportions and slick black hair, of sea green locks and hazel eyes, of olive skin and golden hair, and of wavy brown locks and icy coloured orbs. The remaining six Espada, clad in pure white that stood out harshly against the black inky dwellings of the Garganta they had come from.

And in the centre of them all, Aizen and Tōsen stood together in smug silence.

Steel eyes narrowed as he looked at Aizen, the man was starkly different to when he'd last seen him. His hair was long, almost mimicking Ichigo's more recent style, and the usually white backdrop of his sclera had turned the deepest shade of purple he'd ever seen. Was this the effect of the Hōgyoku enhancing his power?

“It seems we arrived just in time.” Kyōraku chuckled, a confident and surprisingly warm smile on his face as he observed the enemy, “How fortunate.”

“Fortunate?” Aizen's smirk seemed to grow, “I am already more than aware that this is not the real Karakura town, if anything this turn of events is more fortunate for me than it is for you.”

“Oh?” The current Sou-Taichou scratched his chin, feigning surprise, “You figured it out that fast?”

“Indeed. It simply means that I will have to kill you here before advancing to Soul Society to make the Ōken. No matter. Before long you will all be dead at my feet, and my goals in hand.” Strange coloured eyes scanned the cluster of Shinigami, “Interesting, I see Ichigo isn't among you. I hope nothing calamitous has happened to him.”

“You assume that anything calamitous that would happen around him would be caused by anyone other than himself.” Byakuya raised an eyebrow, “As I'm sure you recall... He is something of a whirlwind all to himself.”

“Even whirlwinds dissipate and die eventually, no matter how strong they are.” Aizen gave a half hearted shrug.

“True enough.” The raven haired noble agreed, eyes narrowing marginally, “But given the nature of his particular brand of chaos... I wouldn't be too confident about that day being today.”

“Whether he dies today or not makes no difference. Your fates are sealed.” The brunet lifted a hand in an almost lazy fashion and gestured to his Espada, “Starrk, Harribel, Nelliel, Nnoitra, Grimmjow, Szayel... Consider this your one and only chance to redeem yourselves. Successfully defeat any Taichou or Fukutaichou you desire and I will set you free.”

“Here they come.” Hitsugaya breathed, hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

Ukitake nodded once, “Get ready.”

“Don't let them sneak up on you.” Soi-Fon hissed, eyes like daggers as she drew her Zanpakutō from it's sheath on her back.

“Remember, no matter what motivates them,” Kyōraku's gaze fixed on Byakuya, “We are fighting to protect Karakura town!”

“Who do you think you are talking to?” The Kuchiki heir asked as he drew Senbonzakura, gripping the hilt firmly in his fist, “I am not known to shirk my responsibilities due to personal connections.”

“I am pleased to hear it, Kuchiki Taichou.” The pink kimono clad man smiled, tilting his hat downwards, “Well then... Let's begin.”

* * *

The clash was immediate, Aizen lingered behind seeing no reason to engage anyone present when he had subordinates to do it for him. He could cut down those who survived should his Espada prove to be a further disappointment.

With his hands slipping into his pockets, the brunet watched as Tōsen engaged Komamura and his former Fukutaichou, Hisagi. Undoubtedly their conflict would be all about betrayal and the subsequent anger that had followed, he had little interest in seeing how it concluded or who would come out victorious. Tōsen was dissatisfying as a subordinate, too many times he had watched the man being cut down by people who should have been weaker. If his life ended today it would bring no sorrow.

He watched as Szayel almost immediately entered his Resurrecciōn form to cause all manner of trouble for Ikkaku, Yumichika and Iba. Aizen couldn't find it in himself to be surprised at how fast Szayel had shifted to using his full power, the drugs in his system were sure to fuel his need for victory. Not to mention the burning memory of how hard Grimmjow had fought to stop Szayel being drugged in the first place. It appeared that Byakuya Kuchiki had somehow managed to evoke feelings of affection within all of his Espada and had resulted in the Sexta and Octavo finally rekindling some form of friendship.

There was something amusing about seeing the towering form of Nnoitra leering over the demure stature of Soi-Fon and the bulky figure of her second in command. With smug satisfaction, the brunet watched as the Division Two Taichou's Nigeki Kessatsu ability bounced uselessly off of the Quinto Espada's superior Hierro, leaving the small woman stunned and open to a harsh strike around the face. Ōmaeda was as much of a coward as Aizen remembered, and he watched the man dither on the spot before fleeing down into one of the many alleyways, leaving his superior to her fate.

Raising an eyebrow as the gargantuan serpent head of Zabimaru's Bankai swung in his direction, only to be deflected by Nelliel, Aizen inspected the redheaded Shinigami closer, for the first time noting the white haori that rested over his shihakusho. His lip curled in distaste as he recognised the insignia of Tōsen's former Division. He decided that should Nelliel fail to defeat Renji and Rukia he would take great pleasure in ripping the white cloth from the man's corpse himself.

The Lord of Las Noches was at least, in part, interested in the conflict between his Tres Espada and the Division Ten Taichou and Fukutaichou duo. The sight of Matsumoto's ash abilities being deflected by water, while Hitsugaya's ice powers were boiled by Harribel's Hirviendo ability made for a curious sight. Hitsugaya was still so young, still only on the brink of his full powers. Aizen found himself wondering how the young Shinigami would form a strategy against the power of the Tres.

Gaze sweeping across the fake town, he settled on the sight of his Primera fighting the new Sou-Taichou. He had always envisioned Kyōraku taking over in Yamamoto's place, no one else quite had the credentials for the position in his opinion. And yet he still seemed to move with such a lack of effort, as if testing and trying the waters of the Espada who was so well known for his laziness, much to the despair of his Fracción, Lilynette who was currently trying to attack Ukitake. There wasn't a doubt in his mind, neither Starrk nor Kyōraku would get serious until someone died.

Lastly, he found himself watching as Grimmjow and Byakuya came to blows. For all the Sexta's attempts to avoid the oncoming conflict following the Espada's betrayal, he was fighting with everything he had to try and win his freedom, and most likely Szayel's freedom too. He was even more savage than normal, fighting dirty with underhand tricks and below the belt kicks that seemed to leave the raven haired Shinigami winded. But Byakuya seemed willing to give as good as he got, Senbonzakura's petals swirling around the pair like a threatening snake of razor sharp teeth, ready to sever tendons and cleave flesh at a moment's notice.

If there was a single Shinigami Aizen hoped survived the battle with the Espada, it was Byakuya Kuchiki. He wanted the pleasure of breaking the man himself. Had it not been for his interference and tenacity... Ichigo would never have turned on him.

As if his glare had been sensed, Byakuya momentarily looked in his direction. It was enough of a distraction that the noble was sent flying into a nearby skyscraper by a harsh abdominal kick from Grimmjow, who immediately plummeted into the smoke and debris after his target.

Aizen scoffed inwardly, once upon a time the Kuchiki heir would never have been caught off guard in battle, much less take the chance to look away from the fight. Arrogance. It was sheer arrogance.

His attention was momentarily diverted by the sound of pained cries, and he looked downwards. One perfect eyebrow lifted at the sight of Komamura's anguished expression as it became clear that Tōsen had undergone Hollowfication. The furred Shinigami was covered in blood, seemingly his own with deep wounds already spreading across his body and dripping crimson life force onto the cracked concrete beneath his feet. Hisagi wasn't much better off, impaled through the gut by his former mentor, the Fukutaichou was clearly too shaken to be truly useful in the fight.

Blood was being drawn from every direction, no one was exempt. Injuries spread on both sides like a plague, everyone bore at least one mark.

Yumichika was unconscious, at least half of his internal organs having been crushed by Szayel's sickening abilities. Iba was suffering the same fate as the Octavo began his ritualistic torment, snapping tendons and bones to elicit the maximum amount of pain possible. Ikkaku was enraged by the state of his friends and had lost his senses.

“How interesting that my weakest remaining Espada seems close to victory while those stronger than him continue to fight and play.” The brunet mused aloud, assured smirk stretching across his face.

It was in that moment, when Szayel's battle seemed almost utterly done that Ikkaku's stance changed, his reiatsu levelled out and his temper mellowed. Aizen found his head tilting curiously as the bald man released a bellowed cry of “BANKAI!”

He had been certain that the man would never release his Bankai where the other Shinigami could see him, knowing it would almost certainly assure his removal from Division Eleven and his promotion to Taichou. Perhaps that was the depth of his feelings towards his friends however, that he was willing to sacrifice everything he wanted to live for.

Ikkaku's stance was familiar, memorable. Aizen clicked his tongue against his teeth as he recognised it. It was a stance he used often in combat. A stance he had taught to only one other person. His jaw tightened instantly before he released a small snort, naturally there was only one Shinigami in all of Soul Society who had the power to change the mind of someone like Madarame Ikkaku.

“Ichigo... I truly wonder if you are even aware of the effect you have on those around you.” He said quietly.

* * *

Byakuya groaned from deep in his throat as he lurched out of the way of Grimmjow's feline prowess, blood was already dripping down the side of his face from the cut in his hairline and his gut was protesting to his movement thanks to the kick he'd received. He could scold himself for having looked away from the Sexta for even a moment, it had been foolish.

The nobleman couldn't quite remove his attention from the wide and uncontrolled look in Grimmjow's eyes, his pupils were so large that almost no blue was showing anymore. The drug Gin had warned them about was no doubt the cause. He felt his stomach churn, the acidic tang of bile burning his throat as his mind flashed with images of the Espada writhing on the floor in agony as the chemical tore apart his ability to act freely.

His back hit a wall as he was struck again, swearing harshly under his breath as Grimmjow stalked back and forth in front of him.

“Come on Kuchiki! You ain't even puttin' up a fight for me.” The Sexta's voice was as cocksure as he remembered, but there was an edge to it, a tang of pain that seemed to run through the blue haired Arrancar's very core.

“Perhaps I am buying time.” He murmured, wiping blood from his eye as it trickled into his vision, “Perhaps I do not wish to kill you.”

“Only an idiot would refuse to kill someone in a war like this.” Grimmjow growled, “You're many things, Kuchiki, but you were never an idiot. Fight me like you mean it!”

“I don't take orders from you.” Byakuya tutted, lifting Senbonzakura and narrowing his eyes as he glared across at the Sexta.

Barely azure eyes rolled, “True enough. If you did we might have avoided this entire stupid event, eh?”

“I doubt it. Aizen would have brought war no matter what.”

“True.” A reluctant sigh, Grimmjow tilted his head, seemingly listening out for something.

The Kuchiki heir frowned for a moment before he realised what the blue haired man was doing, “You're worried about Szayel. One of his opponents released a Bankai and now you're concerned that he is out matched. You've grown close.”

“Tch,” the Sexta Espada spat, shooting a murderous look at him, before admitting it, “Kinda. He's got some disgustin' abilities but I ain't sure it would protect him against brute force.”

“So... What will you do?”

“Ain't that obvious?” Grimmjow scowled.

Byakuya smiled faintly and chuckled, “Of course. You will kill me as quickly as you can and hasten to his side to help him finish his fight. Aizen promised you freedom if you won your battles... You want your freedom more than anything.”

“See, told you that you weren't an idiot.”

“My thanks.” The noble's lips tightened in a harsh line, “And as much as I don't want to take your freedom away from you... As much as I want to set you free with my own hands... I too have people I have to fight for. I fear they mean far more to me than you do.”

“Then we have an understandin'.” Grimmjow lifted his blade, dragging his nails along it, “Grind, Pantera!”

“Bankai. Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.” Byakuya closed his eyes as he dropped his Zanpakutō, feeling the familiar surge of power as denumerable pink blossoms exploded around them from the blades which had risen from the ground.

He could sense the reiatsu of his allies, and of their enemies. The injuries being sustained were heavy and gruesome. The majority of the Espada were fighting with everything they had, Starrk was the only exception. Not that he was surprised, the tactician within the Primera was undoubtedly scouting out Kyōraku's abilities and limitations.

He was worried though. Yumichika was already out for the count, Iba wasn't far behind. Ikkaku would only sustain the control over his emotions for a limited amount of time before rage consumed him again, Szayel would abuse that. Ōmaeda had returned from his cowardice to help his Taichou, but had fallen, his legs broken beneath Nnoitra's boot. Soi-Fon was struggling to overcome the Quinto's Hierro, she'd sustained a nasty wound to her arm and back but she hadn't fallen yet.

Matsumoto was in critical condition, almost eviscerated by Harribel's attacks, Kira was fighting to keep the Division Ten Fukutaichou alive with his healing training, but he was no Unohana. Hitsugaya was already in Bankai, but even with his increased range of abilities he was struggling against the power of the Tres Espada's Resurrecciōn. It seemed that Harribel was determined to avenge her Fracción.

Kyōraku was still playing games with Starrk, they were as bad as each other, tacticians, plotters, schemers, they'd feel each other out until they had no other choice. Ukitake was sparring with Lilynette, if it could even be called that. She charged at him and he ducked out of the way.

And Renji, his former Fukutaichou had blossomed as a Taichou but his Bankai was no match for Nelliel's Cero Doble and her Resurrecciōn. The explosion from Zabimaru's snake head was just too similar to that of a Cero. The redhead was relentlessly fighting regardless of his disadvantage, his body set firmly between Nelliel and Rukia.

Rukia... Byakuya's teeth clenched. His sister... His pride... She was dying. Gored by Nelliel's horns and lance. Thrown aside to topple through buildings until she had come to a bone crunching halt in the street.

Swallowing harshly, Byakuya opened his eyes, expression set in a cold mask of indifference, the one he had trained himself to wear for years after the death of his father. His emotions were not weaknesses, they were strengths. But if his enemy could read them, they could be exploited.

Grimmjow's long blue hair was whipping around him in the wind caused by their power, his feral glare heightened in this form, more predatory than before. With jagged teeth and hands that appeared to become clawed black paws, his whip-like tail snapped around threateningly as his furry ears twitched with the state of his release form. The blades protruding from his forearms and his calves were curved and looked fitting for dicing up his prey at a moment's notice.

Blue met pink in an aggressive display of power, claws; teeth; tail and blade cutting and slicing through the barrage of petals thrown his way with a rage and feral snarl that would have shaken most. Byakuya continued to guide his Bankai with his hands, his movements swift and decisive against the speed and agility of his foe.

So engrossed was he in his battle that he was almost thrown off his feet by the enormous explosion from Soi-Fon's battle with Nnoitra. His eyes widening as he threw his petals up as a protective wall against the fiery heat and destruction of her Bankai. The breath was still knocked from his lungs and he found himself looking skywards in time to see the huge missile exploding upon contact with the Quinto Espada.

“Jakuhō Raikōben!” Came the yell from the demure woman, the weighted band around her middle only just holding her in place.

Byakuya gasped unintentionally, watching as Nnoitra's limp and scorched body fell from the sky, landing with a sickening crunch meters away from himself and Grimmjow. The Quinto's reiatsu was fading. He was dying.

“Holy shit.” Grimmjow breathed, his face paling as Nnoitra's reiatsu disappeared.

Tensing, the Kuchiki heir's fingers twitched at his sides, his blood running cold as he sensed an almost immediate change in the atmosphere. Frigid, heavy. The weight of rippling reiatsu cascaded through the streets as a single cry echoed across the town.

“Kick about, Los Lobos!”

Byakuya's breath caught, his hands shaking suddenly as he felt Starrk's reiatsu explode around them, his eyes lifting once more as he witnessed the Primera finally release his Resurrecciōn form against Kyōraku. Just as he had feared... Starrk now had all the motivation he required to fight seriously.

Ukitake seemed to sense it too, because almost immediately the white haired Taichou was at the side of his friend and, if Ichigo was correct, lover. They were both in Shikai, they both knew it was time to fight with everything they had.

Byakuya's eyes met Grimmjow's. The blue haired Espada's hackles raised before he lunged, releasing an deafening roar as he darted between waves and tendrils of petals, expression all the more aggressive for the death of one of his own.

Byakuya sensed the victory of Komamura and Hisagi as they defeated Tōsen, bringing the man back to his senses at long last, only to hear them both scream in anguish as the man perished.

The baritone guttural sound of Renji as the redhead collapsed beneath one of Nelliel's hooves. The almost silent gasp of disbelief as Hitsugaya fell to the floor under the pressure of Harribel's water, the young Shinigami unable to move. The sound of Ikkaku demolishing three buildings beneath his body as he was cast aside once Szayel had finished playing with him. The sight of one of the Octavo's bulbous red tear drops swallowing Soi-Fon's exhausted body.

Somehow, from somewhere, the Espada had found additional strength in the grief of their loss. And suddenly the tide was turning. He couldn't blame them, he too had felt such desperation while captive in Las Noches. He too would do anything to avoid that fate again.

And the Shinigami... They were losing. They were dying. The sight of Komamura rushing towards Aizen threw his heart into his mouth, the furred Taichou was beside himself with grief, and was cut down without Aizen ever drawing his sword.

Grimmjow's fingers were around his throat, claws digging into his pale skin and Byakuya released a startled choke. His eyes wide as he stared at the Sexta, his legs kicking as he was lifted off the ground.

“You have a safety zone for your Bankai, a space you dare not use it in because it could harm you as well.” The blue haired male's voice was low, “I remember you tellin' me. You should never have trusted me.”

Byakuya gasped out, wheezing as the grip on his throat tightened, “Maybe... Not...” He rasped, “But I... Wouldn't change a thing... Even if I could...”

Eyebrows furrowing, Grimmjow clenched his teeth, “I thought you had people you wanted to protect? You're gonna die... Kuchiki... Like the rest of 'em and you wouldn't change it?”

“I'd save them... If I could...” The noble winced, wincing in discomfort as he felt nicks in his skin beginning to bleed, “But would I... Change the friendship I gained? The knowledge? The... Understanding that... Hollows... Can be good... People? Not for anything... In the world Grimmjow.”

The Sexta flinched, his mouth falling ajar as he stared at the Kuchiki heir, his eyes mellowing as his reiatsu seemed to momentarily falter, “This is fucked up.”

Byakuya let out a weak breath, his fingers going numb and his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, he saw the Sexta's pupils shrink just enough for ice blue to show, “I want... To help you...”

“I know you do... You wanted that from the moment you really got to know us.” The blue haired Espada looked down as if searching the floor for answers as he momentarily seemed to regain some self control, “I really hoped Ichigo was gonna be here... I thought... We thought... If anyone could stop this it would be him...”

“We thought so too.” He whispered, “But I... Don't know where he is...”

“Did the assassin get him?” Grimmjow asked quietly.

“I...” Byakuya faltered, gulping faintly as his vision started to blur, “I don't know.”

“Shit.” Grimmjow's arm was shaking, his fingers flexing restlessly around the throat in his grasp, “I gotta do this... I don't have a choice...”

“I know.” The noble breathed, feeling blood dripping from between his fingers as he clenched his fist all the tighter, “And I... Don't have a choice either... I... Have to protect my... Sister...”

Senbonzakura's blades were spinning violently in his palm, cutting deep into the flesh and the tendons beneath, but he refused to open his fingers, refused to throw his hand forward. It would be at the last minute. That dastardly trick Ichigo had used to against Nnoitra all those months ago, would now fall on him as well, to save his own life so that he could save Rukia's.

Everything seemed to slow down. Grimmjow was lifting his free arm, the blade attached there was coming towards Byakuya's throat. Byakuya was lifting his hand, fingers slowly loosening to release the torrent of imprisoned petals that angrily protested their capture. Maybe they would take each other down at the same time. Maybe one would be seconds faster than the other. It didn't matter.

Crimson splattered up into the space between them and Byakuya let out a startled sound from the back of his throat as he was dropped to the floor, eyes wide as he saw an ugly wound stretch across Grimmjow's forearm. It was deep, clearly having severed the tendons to his fingers.

Releasing the bundle of blades he had clasped in his hand, Byakuya glanced around for his saviour.

“My, my. I really don't like getting' involved in Shinigami fights. But what can you do when you hear the sound of fighting so close by... You can't just ignore it.” Shinji flicked his cap from his head and spun it lazily on his index finger, sighing heavily as he cast his eyes round the scene, blood dripping from the tip of his sword.

“Shinji!” Byakuya exclaimed, staring up at the former Taichou.

“Well hello there, Kuchiki Taichou.” The blond flashed a wide toothy grin, “Looks like we got here just in the nick of time.”

“We?” The noble repeated.

“I remember what Urahara said the night he rescued us. 'I made no miscalculations. That was my greatest miscalculation of all.' And just like he predicted the worst-case scenario came to pass. Man, we sure owe them a lot, I thought, Urahara, and also to Aizen, 'nd all.” Shinji chuckled roughly, glancing up towards Aizen with a menacing glare, “So here we all are.”

Byakuya's eyes widened, his mouth falling ajar as he watched the Visored appear one by one around the area.

Love and Rose came between Kyōraku and Starrk, while Lisa dropped down beside Hitsugaya's slowly awakening form along side Hiyori.

Hachi was erecting barriers around Rukia, Yumichika, Matsumoto, Komamura and Ikkaku to preserve their lives as best he could. Kensei dropped down in front of Nelliel, kicking the woman hard in the gut as he shoved her away from Renji's bruised body, the redhead immediately sucking in a shaky breath as he got to his feet, staring at the Visored in surprise.

And finally, Mashiro plummeted towards Szayel, foot outstretched as she released a sharp shriek, slamming her heal against his wing, freeing Soi-Fon before she could be entirely swallowed.

Picking himself up carefully and releasing the smallest of winces as his injuries protested against the movement, Byakuya looked back at Shinji, “Then we can count on you as our allies in this fight?”

“Well, ain't the answer to that freakin' obvious? Not a chance!” The blond scowled, but quickly smirked, “We ain't your allies... But we are Aizen's enemies. Oh, and I did give Ichigo my word we'd be here to help. _He_ is our ally.”

The raven haired Shinigami let out a sharp cough to conceal his chuckle of amusement, but he failed to hide his smile at the man's words, “That's a good enough reason for me to fight with you.”

“Not very fussy then are you?” Came the snorted response as Shinji pointed his sword at Grimmjow, “Where is that strawberry anyway? I wanted to see him in action.”

“We don't know.” The nobleman sighed, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “We just have to deal with this ourselves.”

The blond paused momentarily, glancing at Byakuya before he released a long breath, “I swear... That kid is somethin' else.”

“You'll hear no arguments from me on that account.” The Kuchiki heir smirked, rubbing his chest as he felt bruises coming to life across his skin, “Anyway... Grimmjow. Tell the Espada to surrender now. Shinji and his... Family aren't akin to going easy on people.”

The blue haired Espada's eyes narrowed as he was addressed, eyeballing the blond for what felt like an eternity, “No can do Kuchiki. Orders are orders. We defeat you, we get our freedom. I can't do anythin' less than my best.”

Byakuya felt his heart sink but nodded regardless, “Very well.” He dragged his hand up and watched as waves of pink followed his commands, sensing Hitsugaya and Soi-Fon getting back up onto their feet despite their injuries, “We can't do anything less than that either.”


	77. Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Winter War continues, the Visored have been able to assist the Shinigami in regaining some lost ground, but without additional help it seems like the Espada's fury will overpower them all.

Ichigo paced the cell fitfully, occasionally slamming a fist against the wall or running his fingers through his hair in a restless anxiety. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since Izanshi had trapped him, but he was certain morning must have come and gone. By now... He was almost sure the battle was underway. It was a gut gnawing instinct.

If he stopped, just for a moment, he was certain he could feel the weight of war simmering around him. Palpable. Tangible. Almost touchable. He was sure it was a figment of his imagination, his creativity getting the better of him. Maybe it was the smell of the cell, or the starvation of reiatsu, the low levels of reishi, or the fear.

All he knew with any certainty was that it was driving him mad. He needed to get out, needed to get to Karakura town. He needed to help the Shinigami. He needed to help the Espada! He had to stop Aizen!

“ARGH!” He slammed his fists against the floor with rage, barely recognising the bone spasming pain that shot up his arms as a result of it, “I NEED TO GET OUT!”

He panted, eyebrows furrowed deeply as he scowled at the cracked tiles beneath his hands. His shoulders slumped as his anger faded into the background again, and his anxiety rose in its place. He'd promised so many people so many things... And he had meant to follow through with them. He'd meant to keep his word! He'd wanted to! He'd come so far, done so much... One last battle should have been possible... Should have been within his capabilities... He'd been stupid.

His friends could be dying while he sat among the already dead. Friends that, maybe, he could have protected if he was there. He was the Cero Espada, maybe he could have... Ordered the Espada to stand down. Maybe he could have overwhelmed them with his reiatsu combined with Shiro's and Zangetsu's. Maybe... Maybe...

“ _You'll drive yourself mad with maybes... Ichigo...”_ Tensa's voice filled his head, but he couldn't find any comfort in it now.

“I was stupid... I was reckless... I was so determined to come here alone that I... I never even imagined...”

“ _ **Ya can't see the future. Ya can't see every outcome. No one can, King.”**_

“Then what do I do...” He whispered, “I can't just sit here!”

There was a loud crack, a clunk and a creak. Ichigo's head snapped around as he watched the cell door grind open, his eyes widening in astonishment. He winced as sound seemed to fizz around him, his stasis breaking in time to hear the telltale clack of wooden heels against stone. The snap of a fan.

“Quite right too, Kurosaki-san.”

“Urahara!” He exclaimed, jumping to his feet as the blond came into view, “What are you... How did you...”

“If you have time for questions then you have time to move.” Unohana's voice was sweet as she stepped out from behind the blond haired shop keeper, but her smile was serious and terrifying.

“Unohana Taichou!” He gulped, flinching as his Godfather threw Zangetsu to him, he caught the blade deftly and swung it over his shoulder, “The assassin... He's called Izanshi! He's a shape shifter, and he can clone himself to take different forms! He... He stole Byakuya's cousin's form... And Hinamori's! And Iemura's!”

“We know, Kurosaki-san.” The Division Four Taichou said, her eyes briefly scanning the room behind him before flicking back to his face.

“You... What? How?” He asked, following the two as they lead the way from the cell he'd been locked in.

“Your assessment of the assassin's motives were quite correct, last night Zaraki Taichou was attacked. Myself and Hitsugaya Taichou were present, we witnessed for ourselves as Hinamori Fukutaichou attacked him... And learned the horrific truth.” She explained.

Ichigo's expression turned grim at the thought, “Did Kenpachi survive?”

“Of course. I have not long finished healing him. He is waiting upstairs with Isane, Nanao and Yoruichi-san.”

“And now it is imperative we reach Karakura town. The battle started several hours ago, I have no idea how we are faring.” Urahara muttered, pushing the prison doors open.

“Urahara-san...” Ichigo paused, “Is there anything we can do about the drug that's affecting the Espada? I... I don't want to kill them. They deserve better than that... They deserve to be able to make their own choices... Like I did.”

The man seemed to hesitate, sucking in a breath, “We might be able to help. On the way down here we found some of this... Izanshi's blood, I am assuming you struggled for your freedom and wounded him. It appears he too had some traces of this drug in his system. I'm already working on an antidote even as we speak, but it will take some time.”

Feeling a wave of relief, the strawberry blew out a breath, “Right then... Let's go!”

* * *

The ringing sound of metal on metal rang through the decimated streets as the Visored and remaining Shinigami clashed again with the Espada. While the battles strewn across the town were vastly more evenly matched with the aid of the Hollowfied Shinigami, the power of the Arrancar was incredible as ever.

Kyōraku, Love and Rose continued to tackle Starrk and managed to land several damaging blows against him, yet the Primera just kept bouncing back to his feet to return every hit and strike he had received with some more of his own. Before long, Kyōraku was sporting deep lacerations to his face and back while Love and Rose had been fortunate enough to escape with scorch marks and grazes. Ukitake had fallen, his wounds severe.

Kensei had been joined by Hisagi in his fight against Nelliel, the Division Nine Fukutaichou having managed to set aside his grief enough to fight again. They were far more evenly matched against the Cuatro than Renji and Rukia had been, both able to make nimble and quick attacks rather than being slowed by large movements and timely casting. Nelliel was winded, her stomach bleeding and her throat nicked from a close encounter with Kazeshini, yet she showed no sign of relenting or lessening her own attacks, if anything, she seemed to grow more dangerous with every blow she received.

With help from Lisa and Hiyori, Hitsugaya was finally making a dent against Harribel. The three worked in a clumsy unit, by no means perfect in their attacks and yet swift enough that the Tres Espada was struggling to keep up against them all at the same time. Her forehead had been sliced by Lisa's Shikai while her left leg had been frozen solid by Hitsugaya's ice.

Soi-Fon had collapsed against some rubble, despite her determination to rejoin the fight Szayel had managed to create a puppet of her, and had proceeded to snap several important mobility tendons and bones while deflecting Mashiro's barrage of attacks. The Octavo seemed to be reaching his limit, movements slower than they had been to start with, his confidence waning as he too gained more and more strikes to the face and body. He seemed to be doing everything he could to protect his remaining wings, clearly biding his time until he could ensnare the green haired girl within them.

Byakuya panted sharply as he used Shunpo to dart out of the way of another of Grimmjow's deadly Gran Rey Cero attacks. The temperamental spinning razor of compressing and decompressing reiatsu had proven to be almost unavoidable, and the first time the Sexta had unleashed it Byakuya had very nearly lost his head. The only reason he was still breathing was thanks to Shinji shoving him aside and taking the blast to his Hollow mask instead.

The nobleman glanced towards his unlikely ally, the blond was bleeding heavily from the gored wound above his eyebrow but seemed disinterested with the obvious pain it must have been causing him. All his focus was fixed on the fight. Byakuya shook himself and narrowly ducked the ridiculous reach of Grimmjow's tail, hissing as he took claws to the back instead.

“Is this the best the Goeti Thirteen has to offer?! Eh?!” The blue haired Hollow exclaimed.

Byakuya frowned inwardly, he had become accustomed to Grimmjow's arrogance and bloodlust while living in his quarters. But both aspects of the man's personality were lacking. He wasn't enjoying the fight. He wasn't invested in the fight. He wasn't even confident in his ability to win. It was all fake, all through layers of fear and repulsion towards the drug coursing through his body.

The Kuchiki heir felt a swell of pity. Grimmjow had been turned into a caged beast, he had been declawed, his fangs had been filed and his spirit broken. Perhaps death would be a merciful escape for all the Espada. And death in battle... It was honourable.

“Senbonzakura Kageyoshi: Gōkei.” The nobleman hissed, sweeping his hands together and watching with the faintest of grimaces as his petals swirled around the Sexta Espada, tightening into a large cerise sphere that seemed to swallow the blue haired man whole, “I told you once, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques... I will do anything to protect my pride. Even at the cost of friends and family.”

Turning his back in one swift motion as the sphere of petals imploded destructively before falling to the ground in a hazy mist of pink and scarlet, the nobleman lifted a hand and began to reform his katana, fingers enclosing around the hilt as it took its place in his palm.

“You... Underestimatin' me... Shinigami?”

Byakuya jerked at the voice, eyes widening as he spun on the spot, face paling as he watched Grimmjow wrap his arms around Shinji, the blades on his arms pointed inwards. One aimed at the blond's left eye while the other dug precariously into his throat.

“Whether you're a Human... Or a Shinigami... Or even an Arrancar...” Grimmjow spat blood at the floor between them, his body shaking violently from the numerous deep wounds littering him, “Anyone who looks... At me like they're underestimatin' my power... I'll smash every one of you into oblivion!”

There was a wild, unhinged look in Grimmjow's eyes. Wide, unnerved, pupils pinpointed. Byakuya was sure he could almost hear the Espada's heart thundering in his chest, and he knew why. Szayel's reiatsu was dwindling, the Octavo was being beaten to a bloody pulp by Mashiro, and Grimmjow couldn't go to his aid until his own fight was finished.

In that moment, Byakuya couldn't help but wonder what Ichigo would do in such a situation. He could feel his hands shaking at his sides, Senbonzakura rattling in his grasp as he felt a wave of weariness and exhaustion roll across him like an all consuming wave. His body was heavy, his legs were like lead. But he knew exactly what Ichigo would do. He would pull himself back up, he would stand tall with his sword outstretched, determination seeping into his features as he shouted out his declaration to win.

“If you plan to smash anyone here... I suggest you start with me.” The noble said, lifting his sword and pointing it at the Espada, “After all, I am the one you marked as your prey months ago. It would be a shame if you missed your opportunity to hunt me down.”

Grimmjow's ears seemed to twitch at the challenge and his expression twisted into one of rage as he threw Shinji aside and shot towards Byakuya like a bullet from a gun, twirling through the air with a feline grace as he tangled feet and hands towards the noble with a spiralling menace of blades.

The Kuchiki heir met him, blade against blades as he clenched his teeth and pushed forwards, lashing out with a flurry of kicks and swipes that had Grimmjow ducking and darting around him. Undoubtedly the blue haired Espada was the predator and Byakuya was the prey.

Flitting up onto one of the nearby buildings, Byakuya was forced to throw himself forwards out of the way of Rose's whip-like Shikai, hissing as he grazed his shoulder on some twisted metal work, he rolled back onto his feet and turned to face Grimmjow again as the Sexta followed him.

“Bakudō 61: Rikujōkōrō.” Jutting his fingers out, Byakuya's eyes narrowed as the Espada was slammed by the six beams of yellow light, his body immobilised by the Kidō, “Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! On the wall of blue flame, inscribe a twin lotus. In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens. Hadō 73: Sōren Sōkatsui!”

Gasping out as he watched Grimmjow disappear within the dual blasts of blue, the Shinigami staggered, using his sword to keep himself upright. His eyelids were drooping and his knees were shaking, he hated showing so much weakness on the battlefield but he had exerted far more of his reiatsu than he had expected to have to, it was growing hard to keep on his feet let along keep his pain from showing on his face.

Dragging himself forwards, the Division Six Taichou dropped down to the street, crouching beside Shinji to assess the damage to the blond. Besides the gouge above his eye and a penetrating stab wound to his ribs everything else seemed fairly superficial.

“Are you still with me, Hirako-san?” He asked, gently tapping his cheek to rouse him.

“Ugh,” came the grunted reply, “Yeah, yeah I'm with you. Just taken a few more knocks than I'd like.”

Byakuya allowed the smallest of smiles to show as he saw brown eyes flicker open, “Perhaps next time you will be more efficient in dodging then.”

“Tch, look who's talkin'. You look like shit, Kuchiki _Taichou_ , by the Soul King, I knew your Granddaddy... Even he never got this beaten up and he was a tough old bastard at the best of times.” Shinji glared off to the side as he sat up, but flashed a smirk when he saw Byakuya bristle, “Did ya finish him off?”

“Who do you think you are talking to?” The noble hissed, eyes closing with a sigh.

“An idiot!”

Byakuya had no time to react to Grimmjow's yell before the blades sank into his back, on either side of his spine. They dug deep beneath his flesh and ripped into tendons and muscles, driving a screech of pain to burst free from his lips in a mottled mix of bile, saliva and blood. Steel eyes going wide as he felt the blood rush from his face, the world turning a peculiar hue of grey as it spun and flipped upside down as he was washed away with dizziness.

“Byakuya!”

Shinji's exclamation was muted by the blood pounding in the noble's ears as he fell forwards, landing limply beside the blond haired Visored. His chest stuttering with shallow breaths that tried to accommodate the searing pain in his back. Body turning numb, the only sensations he was particularly aware of was the thick wetness of blood pooling around his hands as they fell to his sides, and the pain that came from being turned onto his back by the blue haired Espada.

Releasing a choked breath, he forced himself to focus, eyes rolling in agony as his lacerated back was pressed down against the uneven flooring, he could feel the smallest fragments of gravel and grit dipping inside the open wounds, defiling his blood with filth as he bled so profusely. He could smell the tang of iron in the air, he could taste the metallic bitterness on his tongue and lips.

Grimmjow's clawed fingers were buried in the front of his uniform, dragging him upwards just enough that the blue haired Espada could press their foreheads together.

“I warned you... Not to underestimate me.”

Byakuya was vaguely aware of the burn marks on Grimmjow's arms and chest, he had clearly deflected the Kidō at the last moment, probably with a Cero of some kind. He had been foolish not to make sure that the blow had landed.

“Like I'd lose... Like I'd... There's no way... No way I'd lose to someone like _you_.” Grimmjow breathed, “I'm doing this for Szayel... You get that don't you? You'd do this for Ichigo... For your sister...”

“So much for... It being unheard of... For Hollows... To feel love...” The noble rasped, releasing a choked wet cough.

Teeth clenched, Grimmjow raised his free arm, the tip of the blade which rested there hovered above Byakuya's heart, the quiver that ran the length of the metal was almost unnoticeable. Azure eyes narrowed to slits, but for at least a moment the raven haired Shinigami was certain he saw tears welling there.

“I wanted to fight you...” Grimmjow breathed, his expression tormented, “I wanted to be the one to... I hoped you'd... I hoped Ichigo would be here... I didn't want this to happen... You don't get it... Even now... It's not Szayel I love! You fuckin' bastard... All that shit in Las Noches... You made me fall for you!”

The Kuchiki heir let out a sharp gasp, his eyes widening at the admission as he felt the coldness of steel pierce his skin, his body arching of its own accord as the metal moved deeper, the spearhead aiming for his heart, for that vital organ that was keeping him alive so far. At the very least, Grimmjow was being merciful and finishing the job quickly, he was sure some of the other Espada like Nnoitra or Barragan would have taken delight in making him suffer for as long as possible.

Unable to stop his mind from wandering as the inevitable end came towards him, he could sense that Rose and Love had collapsed, leaving Kyōraku to fight Starrk alone again. Hisagi had been trampled by Nelliel's hooves in a similar fashion to Renji and was currently being crushed beneath her as she defended herself against Kensei. Lisa had been wounded but continued to fight along side Hiyori and Hitsugaya regardless, seemingly ignoring the open wound on her thigh. Mashiro was overpowering Szayel, the Octavo's strength seemed to be fading fast. Shinji couldn't move beside him, a Cero aimed at his skull, and was forced to watch as the life began to drain from the noble.

“Ichigo will kill you for this... You know that... Don't you?” He said softly, a tiny frown on his face.

“I know it.” Came the gruff reply, blade slipping deeper, “I'll embrace it.”

Tilting his head slowly, Byakuya released a groan of pain, wincing through it, “None of you... Came here with... The intention of... Surviving... Did you?”

“Tch.” Grimmjow's head hung slightly, long hair flowing over his shoulders like a river breaking free, “I don't think Aizen has any intention of setting us free... At least not like we want him to. His version of freedom is death.”

“Then why... Why are you fightin' so hard!” Shinji demanded, flinching as the Cero flickered threateningly.

“Because we can't fight the drug! I tried! I tried so hard it nearly killed me! I'm a warrior... I... I have to die in battle otherwise nothing matters!” The blue haired man snapped, “Not one of us can just go down without a fight... We hoped... That we'd die trying to be free. But he made us too strong. Fuck that bastard, Nnoitra for dyin'... He got his wish.”

“His wish?” The blond Visored asked.

“Aizen killed his Fracción, Tesra, as punishment for helping Ichigo escape.” The Sexta muttered, the movement of his blade halting as he spoke, “They were more than just superior and subordinate though, they were... Intimate. I think... Nnoitra had started feelin' affection for him so when he died... It broke him... It drove him mad. He goaded Aizen, goaded Tōsen... Tried to get them to kill him but they refused...”

“Aizen always was a cruel bastard. He enjoys makin' people suffer, he enjoys watchin' 'em squirm.” Shinji's tone was venomous, “He experimented on us Visored... Turned us against one 'nd other just to see if he could! Just _because_ he could!”

“You escaped though.” The anger in Grimmjow's voice was unquenchable as he fixed Shinji with a scowl which would have made most men flinch away, “You escaped, you got free. We didn't. We had to stay. We had to serve. We had to die for his whims! You got off lightly, Shinigami!”

Too late the nobleman realised what Shinji was trying to do, trying to wind Grimmjow up, trying to change his target, trying to save a life. Byakuya let out a cry of pain as Grimmjow yanked his blade free abruptly, almost fainting entirely from the rippling sensations of discomfort that racked through him. His pride as a noble would never allow him to actually faint though, he clung on by a hair.

He was forced to lay back and watch as Grimmjow lunged at the blond man, rolling weakly onto his side as he looked around for his Zanpakutō. Groaning, he forced himself to edge upwards, reaching out feebly towards the hilt which lay just a few inches from his grasp. He could hear the sounds of Shinji's pain, the thuds and slaps of skin against skin as the Sexta punched him over and over again.

“Shit.” The noble hissed, fingertips just brushing against the cold metal pommel.

“Awaken, Benihime!”

Byakuya's eyes widened as the crimson coloured arc of energy blasted over his head, hitting Grimmjow squarely in the side, throwing him away from Shinji. His throat constricted. He knew that voice. He knew that Zanpakutō.

“Isane, come. We shall assist Hachigen-san with healing the wounded. That is our task here.” Unohana's voice was as soft as ever, but hardened by the sound of battle around them.

The Kuchiki heir lifted his head just enough to see the bottom part of the Division Four Taichou's uniform as she appeared before him, “U-Unohana Taichou...”

“Try not to speak, you are badly wounded, Kuchiki Taichou.”

“Shunko!” Yoruichi's voice came from not far away, and he could see her darting from building to building as she headed towards Kyōraku.

“We came as quickly as we could.” The Division Four Taichou said softly as she began running her hands against the air over his body, pulsing her own reiatsu through him to begin the healing process, “It seems you were all giving a good fight without us however!”

“Is... Ichigo with you?” He asked, wincing.

There was a slight shine in her eyes, a mirth he couldn't place, “Hush, Kuchiki Taichou, do not speak.”

Had she seen Ichigo? Was he dead? Had the assassin got him after all? He couldn't stand not knowing!

He watched silently as Urahara joined the fight against Nelliel and took the pressure off Kensei, while Yoruichi began hailing devastating blows against Starrk alongside Kyōraku. Kenpachi appeared too, charging into the fray without any hesitation. Feeling his eyes fluttering with weariness, he cast a quick glance to his side, relaxing as he watched Isane beginning to heal Shinji.

Overheard, he caught sight of Minazuki, the green Zanpakutō spirit swooping down into the streets to swallow the broken bodies of anyone Hachi had not already managed to heal. He saw Nanao join Kyōraku, standing a short distance away, she seemed to be scolding him. Byakuya could see Tessai, he was helping Hachi. They were healing the injured. They were helping.

Byakuya's eyes slipped closed, allowing himself to finally rest as he felt the healing surges roam his injuries, knitting him back together slowly. A slow breath escaped him, shuddering as the world began to make sense again and his strength slowly seeped back into his body, he had no doubt it would take Unohana quite some time to heal him properly, but as long as he could get back on his feet to fight he was content with that.

Snapping to attention abruptly, the Kuchiki heir snatched his hands up, grabbing Unohana by the wrists and yanking her aside as Grimmjow came from nowhere, his calf blades impaling where Unohana's head had been seconds before. The blue haired Espada was snarling, blood ran freely from the deep wound across his abdomen from Urahara's attack.

The Sexta looked deranged, bleeding, smoking, shaking with a low rattling snarl rising from his throat. The wild look of his eyes was terrifying, the anger was inconsolable. Watching as Grimmjow lifted his arms, one blade aiming for him while the other aimed for the healing woman beside him, the Sexta let out a fierce roar and plunged the arched blades towards them both, murder in his eyes.

A fist appeared from nowhere, striking the blue haired Espada in the jaw, thrusting him aside. Byakuya's breath caught in his throat as he watched a fan of orange hair flutter overhead, billowing in the window above him like a new sun shooting rays of hope in every direction.

“Ichigo.” He whispered.

Turning slowly, the strawberry offered a small smile, “Hey. Sorry I'm late.” Ichigo seemed to pause for a moment and looked at Unohana, “I'm ready, you know the signal.”

Byakuya watched in confusion as his lover suddenly disappeared in a burst of Shunpo, bouncing back up to a position above the town, standing amidst the swirling smoke and devastation.

“Espada!” Ichigo yelled, “Stop!”


	78. The Cero Espada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's arrival on the battle field gives the Espada a chance to finally make their own choices, and Aizen prepares to show his true strength.

“Espada! Stop!” Ichigo roared at the top of his lungs.

He cast a sharp eye over the fake Karakura town, eternally pleased that it was fake and not the real thing. It looked like a bomb had gone off. Or an earthquake had hit. The destruction was on a colossal scale. He could see the blood splashes, the crumbling derelict buildings, the cracked roads, the tattered streets he could probably name if he had to.

He was only grateful that they had arrived before Grimmjow had succeeded in killing Byakuya, and in time to help assist the injured. He could see Aizen, standing across the town, smugly watching over everything that was happening. He could see the Visored, and he was eternally grateful that they had turned up to fight.

Sucking in a breath, he took a few steps forwards, expression darkening as he forced authority into his tone, “I order you... Surrender!”

“Surrender?” Szayel scoffed, wiping blood from his mouth as he glared up at the strawberry, “You do know that we can't surrender, right? I mean... You aren't so stupid that you'd ignore Gin's words, surely?”

“You're right, Szayel. I'm not stupid.” Ichigo replied sharply, familiar scowl slipping into place, “But you _will_ kneel down, and you will surrender.”

“Says who?” Grimmjow growled, appearing a short distance away with a crackle of Sonido, his lip bleeding from the punch he'd delivered.

“Says me.” The Division Six Fukutaichou replied as though it was the simplest thing in the world, lifting his head confidently as his hand curled around the hilt of his Zanpakutō, “I'm going to give you one more chance to do this peacefully. Surrender!”

“Not a chance.” The Octavo spat, his remaining wing snapping out towards Mashiro's distracted form.

Ichigo released a snarl of his own, free hand snapping down over his face to summon his Hollow mask, it formed almost instantaneously. Pure black against his skin with two vertical white lines running down between the vast and pointed horns atop of its skull like shape. A Hollowfied roar broke free from his lips, concealed behind the bone structure of his mask.

“ **I SAID KNEEL!”**

His voice was rippling, silvery and Hollow, echoing around the town, vibrating through the reishi in the air. His authority forcing Szayel's body to stiffen, his wing retracting. He could see the pink haired man struggling, the power of the drug in his system conflicting with the orders he was being given. The look of agony on his face was one Ichigo would never forget.

It was in that moment that Minazuki soared upwards, body convulsing like an ugly fish left to boil out of water, its huge maw opening on Unohana's command to release the brewing, rolling plume of purple smoke that had built up within its belly. The smoke billowed across the town, seemingly shooting towards the Espada in tendril like fingers, encasing them, bursting into their bodies through their noses or mouths.

Urahara's cure. He could only hope it worked.

“ **When your Cero gives you an order... You follow it!”** He barked, this would be the test, if they responded... If they followed his orders and suffered no pain for it... They were free.

Silence seemed to ripple across the town like a deathly chill. And then...

One by one, the Espada got down on their knees. Szayel was the first, followed by Grimmjow and Nelliel, then Harribel, and finally Starrk. It took Ichigo a moment to realise that the Visored had also dropped to a knelt position, and he began to wonder just how far his influence stretched over Hollows and Hollowfied souls.

Panting in relief, he saw the pain fade from across the faces of the Espada. Urahara's cure had worked... They had free will back! He could barely believe it, or contain his relief. Ichigo lifted a hand and removed his mask, allowing it to disintegrate in his grasp.

“Thank goodness.” He said aloud, eyes slowly turning towards Aizen, narrowing.

The brunet's face couldn't have been more dispassionate, an obvious mask to conceal whatever it was he was actually feeling. Ichigo felt a chill run through him as the man's eyes fixed on him. Purple sclera... Long hair... The Hōgyoku must have begun bolstering Aizen's strength over the last month, transforming him. Making him something new. Something different. Hybrid.

“You bastard...” Grimmjow snarled, glowering slowly at the brunet Shinigami, “Forcing us to fight like this... Taking away out free will! You knew we'd never fight for you otherwise!”

The strawberry tugged Zangetsu free from its bandage sheathe, “And I am truly so sorry I didn't get here before the fighting broke out.”

“You make it sound as if your presence will change anything.” Aizen said sharply, taking several swift steps towards the strawberry, fingers closing around the sheathe of his sword, “All I have to do it reveal my Shikai to you... And this is all over. A bad dream. Nothing more.”

The ring of steel that came from the man drawing his sword was hidden from Ichigo as a tall figure appeared in front of him in a crackle of Sonido, he looked up in surprise to see wavy brown hair.

“I will never let him see your Shikai! Aizen!” Starrk shouted, lifting his dual pistols and aiming them at the brunet Shinigami, “On my life! He will never fall under your spell!”

“You forget your place, Primera.” Aizen breathed.

“My place is right here. Between you... And my Cero.”

“As is mine.” Harribel declared as she darted up beside him, her fin shaped sword pointed at Aizen.

“There was a time when we ceased to be Human and became beasts. And then in becoming Arrancar, we regained our capacity for reason. One who possesses reason who require a reason to fight.” Nelliel spoke softly as she joined the other two in front of Ichigo, “I had no reason to fight here, other than self preservation. I think perhaps, the reason of defending my Cero is a far greater cause!”

“Well, I sure as hell ain't gonna get left out of this.” Grimmjow snorted, folding his arms as he stood to the right of Harribel, flashing a wink at Ichigo, “Yo, Strawberry, I'm kinda glad you could make it. Even if you are late! I owe you one.”

“I wish I had taken the time to ask Yammy what 'bad luck' means in Spanish... Because we are surely plagued by it.” Szayel sighed as he appeared beside his blue haired friend.

“Mala suerte.” Grimmjow muttered under his breath.

“Really? I had hoped it would be something more imaginative than that.” The pink haired Espada rolled his whiskey coloured eyes.

“I'm sorry.” He said softly, resting a gentle but firm hand on Starrk's shoulder, nudging the man aside so he could walk past, “But this time it's my turn to protect you all. That's my job. It's always been my job. From the moment I was born... I was meant to protect the people I care about. The people who mean the most. My mother... My sisters... My friends... I have failed so many times, I've ended up hurting them more than I've saved them. But I can make that right. Today. Right here.”

“If you see his Shikai...” Starrk trailed off, his brow furrowing at the determination on Ichigo's face.

“He will never show me his Shikai, not unless he is truly desperate. And I don't think he is. Not yet.”

“How do you know that?” Szayel hissed.

“Because the moment he shows me his Shikai, he's lost. He always believed he could keep me in line by brute force alone. If he goes back on that now... He'll feel like he's failed himself.” Forcing a scowl to replace his smile, Ichigo raised his blade, “Isn't that right?”

Aizen chuckled softly, tilting his head back so he could look down on them, “You see Ichigo, as you have always seen, more of me than I wish to show. But as you well know, I don't need to use the power of my Kyoka Suigetsu to defeat you.”

“Your arrogance is your undoing.” The strawberry murmured, “You treat everyone around you like they are disposable assets, tools to do a job and if the tool doesn't work you can cast it aside. You're right, Aizen! I do see you! I see what I've always seen! Raw power. Unbridled. Uncontrollable. Malicious.”

“There was a time those were qualities which you too possessed.” The brunet half purred, his tone smug.

“And maybe I still do.” Ichigo's eyes narrowed, his throat constricting, “But back then... I didn't care who or what I used my power for. That changed! I know exactly what I'm using my power for now! I'm using it to protect my friends from you!”

“I made you!”

“You destroyed me!” Ichigo yelled, taking a sharp step forwards, “I was a happy, loving little kid! I wouldn't have hurt another living soul for anything! For anyone! You robbed me of that! You turned me into a monster! You turned me into a machine! You turned me into one of your special tools that you could use and discard when I'd run out of use!”

“Is that what you think?” Aizen raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he slowly walked forwards, “Do you truly think... If you were a simple tool for me to use and abuse that I would have allowed you to live for a second longer when I discovered you had betrayed me?”

His chest was heaving with a mixture of anger and passion, a vile churning in his stomach that refused to lessen for even a moment. He looked down, glowering at a random building that came into view. Ichigo knew that was true enough, he had never understood why Aizen hadn't simply killed him in his quarters the moment he realised the depth of his betrayal, the depth of his returned feelings. It was the one question which had remained unanswered.

Flinching as he felt a hand suddenly rest on his chest, his eyes snapped up, coming face to face with the man himself. He felt his breath stutter as Aizen's eyes bored into his own. He was stunned into silence by the serenity of the man's expression, the sudden warmth in his eyes, the heat of his touch.

“Love... Is for children's stories. It has no place in the real world.” Aizen said quietly, his head tilting to one side, “But like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to you... And to Shiro. Finding myself drawn closer and closer, into your web. Even at the risk of getting burnt. And I have been burnt by you, by both of you.”

Certain that he had stopped breathing completely, Ichigo felt himself still at the other's words. The meaning behind them wasn't lost on him, and in the deepest recess of his Soul he knew he had once longed to hear them, just as Shiro had. To know he was more than a plaything. More than a tool. More than a weapon.

And yet... Even as Aizen's hand slowly trailed up his throat, surprisingly soft finger pads brushing against his jaw and cheek with such tenderness that it was as if receiving a kiss from a butterfly's wings... Aizen wasn't looking at him. Not properly. Their eyes were locked, a perpetual battle of wills preventing them from blinking. But... No...

Aizen was looking _through_ him. Through his eyes, into the depths beyond. Into his very being. What was he looking for?

Ichigo's eyes widened only slightly as the world around him seemed to shimmer and change. A shadow of another time, another place revealing itself to him. A twisted, unreal Karakura town. With skyscrapers of blue and black.

He could see Shiro. The albino Hollow was standing stock still, hands resting on unseen glass as if pining for freedom. And on the other side of that glass... Aizen... Hands resting in the same space as Shiro's. Dark eyes finding their goal. Finding their treasure.

He felt an abrupt chill across his skin, a crawling sensation that made him shudder from the inside out.

“You don't want me.” He breathed.

Seemingly surprised, Aizen allowed the battle to end as he blinked lazily, “You always see too much.” His voice was almost silent.

Ichigo reached up and coiled his fingers around the brunet's wrist, prising his hand away from his face, “You can't have him. You've hurt him enough for a life time. I'll be dead before I let you take him again.”

Aizen released a small huff, his eyes narrowing with a sense of hunger and determination, “If that is what it requires then so be it.”

Ichigo let out a shout, throwing his body backwards as he brought his feet up. His heels slammed into Aizen's chest, forcing the brunet back. Ichigo took the opportunity, the brief distance between them to lift Zangetsu, one hand slamming down onto his arm.

“Whatever you do... Do not get in my way!” He shouted to anyone who could hear him, the fear of hurting his loved ones thrumming through him before he roared, “BANKAI!”

It was the end of the line. One last stop. One last fight. That was his hope. His need. Lean muscle and brute force, tied with speed and precision. Tensa Zangetsu clashed against Kyoka Suigetsu with a thunderous force that send reverberations up and down his arms.

Ichigo's teeth were clenched, his eyes narrow, focused, angry. He was pressing into Aizen, trying to force him back by even an inch. Even a small nudge. He'd trained for this. He'd trained and trained and trained.

Their blades were locked. Ichigo ripped his Hollow mask on. In one fluid motion he bowed his head, charged a Cero between his horns and released it. He felt the shock waves of the impact as he was thrown back, skidding as he righted himself, looking left and right as he sensed Aizen flitting around him. A hunter and his prey. But which was which.

Left!

Ichigo turned, lifting his sword. The clang of metal was loud, Aizen's face was singed, part of his collar burned away. They parted, only to charge at each other again. It was elegant. It was purposeful. A dance. Their dance. The dance they'd learned together through years of training and study together. Ichigo felt himself falling into the familiar patterns, the back and forward motions, the pirouettes, the swirls, the ducks and dives and arcs of steel.

His sword grazed Aizen's midsection, it missed the flesh but tore the shihakusho he wore. In retaliation he felt the sting of metal against his arm, shallow but instantly drawing blood.

The ringing of their swords quickened to a rattle, Ichigo twisted and turned, whirling with great movement, almost like he was throwing his entire body into each motion. Which he was. With each passing second, Aizen was pushed back. But then the brunet pushed forwards, Ichigo being forced away. They were too evenly balanced, too perfectly tied. There was no upper hand, no downfall in movement.

They knew each other too well.

Ichigo let out a frustrated roar, rushing forwards with a frenzy of movements. His training with Byakuya seeping into his movements. His training with Shinji seeping into his movements. Shiro's unpredictable rage surged forwards. Everything tied together. Everything rushed up. It was like a tidal wave of experience. He couldn't control it. He didn't want to control it.

“GETSUGA TENSHOU!” He screamed.

Aizen was knocked to one knee, panting harshly as he deflected the blow into a nearby building. There was a thin sheen of sweat across the brunet's brow, his teeth clenched in a smug smirk as he looked up at his protégé.

“I feel his anger. His rage.” The brunet breathed, pushing himself to his feet, “The combination reiatsu is delightful. You've grown... Grown stronger than I had ever hoped. There is still time. Time for you to put all this behind you. Release him back to me. Together... We could tear the Soul King's domain apart.”

Gasping for breath, Ichigo's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, “You... You're deluded.”

For the first time, Aizen seemed to show a genuine scowl of frustration, his jaw setting in an angry line as his fingers flexed restlessly at his side, “I have offered you both... Everything. Countless times. I had no need to do so. And yet you throw it back in my face... And I am tired of trying to understand why. Is it because you hate me? Is it because he still cares? Or is it because of them?!”

The strawberry flinched as the brunet gestured towards the Espada, the Visored and the Shinigami.

“Do you truly believe for even a second... That they would have spared you if you weren't useful to them?” The man tutted in annoyance, pacing in front of him, “They are using you both. Manipulating you both. _Yes_ , I did the same... But you always benefited from it. You both grew strong, formidable. You could have taken anything you wanted! But them?! They will wash their hands of you as soon as you run out of use! Do you think the Goeti Thirteen will forgive your crimes? It is merely beneficial for them to forget them until such a time as they can no longer ignore it.”

Ichigo gulped, his teeth clenching behind his mask. He couldn't deny he feared it... He feared that once Aizen was defeated and the war was over, he would be held accountable for his previous crimes. Even if he found personal atonement for his crimes by defeating his former mentor, former lover... There was no guarantee that Soul Society would do the same.

“I can see the fear in you, Ichigo. The hesitation. The worry.” Aizen let out a small sigh, “Even now, when you are staking your life to defend them, you don't entirely trust them.”

He hated that he was right. He hated it! He hated the fact that he was hesitating. It was just like Shinji had said... It was just like the blond Visored had feared. Aizen still held all the keys to all the locks. He still lingered in his head, still had a foothold.

“I can help you.”

Ichigo's eyes snapped up suddenly, his body turning cold as he watched as Aizen vanished from his sights. His body twisted around, his blood chilling to ice as he heard a scream of pain. His breath knocked from his lungs as he watched Hitsugaya hit the floor, one of his arms severed at the shoulder. Nelliel's back legs were amputated, she released a screech of anguish as she was kicked aside, thrown into Kensei.

The strawberry watched in anguish as Aizen moved too quickly, too swiftly. Sword swinging, arching, twisting, twirling. Severing limbs, impaling organs, flaying flesh from bone with single swipes.

Horror rose as he watched the brunet's attention turn towards the raven haired nobleman who was laying in the street beside Shinji and Unohana. And his body moved. Ichigo plummeted like a bullet from a gun, sword outstretched, the tip aimed for Aizen's heart.

A startled gasp escaped him as Aizen suddenly disappeared again. He couldn't stop. He hit the ground where the brunet had been, skidding across the broken gravel as he rolled, bounced and ultimately ground to a stop as his back bent around a still standing lamppost. The breath was knocked clean out of his lungs as he slumped on the floor, Zangetsu skittering out of his grasp.

Why was Aizen suddenly so much faster? He thought they were evenly matched but... As Ichigo's concentration broke his mask crumbled, his stomach jolting with sudden terror. Aizen had been playing with him. Just like Shiro had played with Ulquiorra.

“N-No...” He breathed, dragging himself up onto his knees he flinched as he found the point of Kyoka Suigetsu brushing the skin between his eyebrows.

“I see you've realised the error of your actions.” Aizen's voice was smug, his smirk widening, “You can't fool me... You can't overcome your master. I taught you everything, I taught you how to use Shunpo. I taught you how to move with fluidity. I taught you how to fight without fearing pain. You think you can use those things to defeat me?”

“Ichigo!”

The strawberry heard Byakuya's voice from down the street, the nobleman was fighting Unohana, trying to get to him despite the severity of his wounds. He didn't dare take his eyes away from the man in front of him though, he wasn't sure he'd survive it.

“Jūgeki Byakurai!” Urahara's voice rang out without warning, and Ichigo flinched backwards as a vibrant bolt of scarlet lightening pierced through Aizen's shoulder, drawing the man's ire.

“Kisuke Urahara...” Aizen growled, glaring at the man who was perched on the top corner of a nearby building, pointing his Zanpakutō at them both.

“You aren't seriously telling me you didn't sense that coming? Even with the power of the Hōgyoku fused to you?” The blond's voice was mocking but his expression was deadly serious.

“It is not a fusion, but a subjugation.” The brunet replied calmly, his annoyance fading, “And with its power there is no need for me to dodge your attacks.”

“Is that so?” Urahara seemed to take it as a personal challenge as his grasp tightened on his Zanpakutō, “Bakudō 61: Rikujōkōrō.”

Aizen was slammed by the familiar yellow beams, yet his expression of growing amusement never seemed to change, “It will take more than this to hold me.”

“Bakudō 62: Hyapporankan!” The blond fired the white-blue glowing rod towards Aizen, the rods separating abruptly, striking the brunet's chest, arms and legs, throwing him up against the wall, pinning him in place, “Bakudō 30: Shitotsu Sansen!”

Ichigo ducked the crackling yellow energy as it shot forwards, the trio of golden triangles impaling Aizen's form, pinning him even more certainly against the wall behind the strawberry. Ichigo flung himself forwards and grabbed Zangetsu, quickly darting out of the way as he heard Urahara begin another chant.

“Limit of the thousand hands, respectful hands, unable to touch the darkness. Shooting hands unable to reflect the blue sky. The road that basks in light, the wind that ignores the embers, time that gathers when both are together, there is no need to be hesitant, obey my orders. Light bullets, eight bodies, nine items, book of heaven, diseased treasure, great wheel, grey fortress tower. Aim far away, scatter brightly and cleanly when fired.” The brilliant and blinding gathering of vibrant pink energy points were already flickering into life, trembling as Urahara spoke, “Hado 91: Senjū Koten Taihō!”

Aizen released a rare growl, amusement gone and replaced once more by annoyance, he began struggling against the bonds, snarling in anger as the ten beams of pink struck his body, exploding the wall and building behind him.

Ichigo threw his hands over his head, protecting himself from the flying debris. He couldn't see Aizen, but a single glance at Urahara told him that the brunet was still alive, still dangerous. Urahara was speaking again, but the thunderous sound of demolition deafened the strawberry to his words until he reached the end.

“Bakudō 79: Kuyō Shibari!” Eight black holes with purple outlines appeared around Aizen's body, a ninth forming in the centre of his chest, immobilising him once again, as Urahara then added, “Fusatsu Kakei!”

Yellow-golden rings appeared around Aizen's wrists as the man appeared from the smoke, Ichigo watched in horror as energy began to build, engulfing Aizen within it, he briefly heard Urahara saying something about 'incineration from the inside out' and he felt his gut churn uncomfortable as he heard Aizen release a long howl of pain.

Several long moments passed, and Ichigo dared to hope. But his hope was crushed as Aizen emerged unscathed, save for a few small smudges of blackness on his arms. The front of his shihakusho was gone, revealing the Hōgyoku's pulsing form embedded in his chest. Ichigo realised that it wasn't the fact that Aizen was unharmed, it was that the Hōgyoku was healing him!

“URAHARA MOVE!” He howled, eyes wide as he looked up at the blond.

The former Taichou heard his warning too late as Aizen appeared in front of him, striking him across the chest with the length of his sword. The blond staggered back, crumpling onto one knee as Aizen towered over him.

Ichigo lurched to his feet, running as fast as he could as he watched Kyoka Suigetsu raise into the air. He couldn't watch another person he loved die. He couldn't. Not when he could stop it!

The blade swung downwards so fast it whistled, only to clang against two swords that almost seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Ichigo froze on the spot, choking on his own breath as he watched Grimmjow and Shinji stood side by side, their swords crossed over to stop the force of Kyoka Suigetsu before it could hit Urahara.

Both men were still dealing with their own injuries, but their expressions were steadfast. Determined.

“Your gall in standing against me is noted Grimmjow. And believe me I will make you suffer for it when I am done.” Aizen's words were sharp, cutting and malicious, “And you... Hirako Taichou, I wonder how strong your nerve truly is. How many times have you bowed to me before? I can, and will, make you do it again.”

Ichigo saw Shinji's expression change, turning shocked and horrified at the same time. They were both aware of what the brunet was suggesting, both knew the lengths he would be willing to go to. He saw Shinji's hands shake and he knew he couldn't hesitate any longer.

He ripped his mask back on and lunged, curling Zangetsu around Aizen's neck while he was distracted, he grabbed the blade in his hand and pulled as hard as he could. It sickened him to try and kill anyone the same way Ulquiorra had tried to kill him but... Desperate measures.

The sunrise haired male felt a single drop of blood splash against his palm before Aizen elbowed him in the gut and escaped his clutches with a well placed kick in Ichigo's thigh. The strawberry grunted, biting his lip as pain blossomed across his stomach. He couldn't believe how strong a single hit had been. Just how strong had the Hōgyoku made Aizen?!

He watched as Grimmjow and Shinji collapsed, he hadn't even seen Aizen strike them and yet the dual gashed across their chests told him otherwise. He grimaced and turned, sensing the brunet behind him.

“With all the good will in the world I can't make you change your mind... It's unfortunate.” Aizen muttered, almost to himself it seemed, “I didn't want to have to resort to this... It was the very last thing I ever wanted to do... But you... You have given me _no_ choice.”

Ichigo gulped as he watched Aizen's eyes latch onto his own, the seething anger swirling within them froze him to the spot as he watched Kyoka Suigetsu lift lift and point directly at him. He had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what Aizen was about to do, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

“Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu.”

Fear struck him in the very core of his chest, his heart flinching as he almost seemed to be able to see the curling wave of energy washing towards him like a vicious current. He was going to lose his ability to see beyond Aizen's illusions. He was going to lose. If he was as blind as everyone else... He had no advantage.

“ICHIGO!”

Byakuya's voice was loud in his ears, it drew his attention, Ichigo's gaze snapped around to meet that of the nobleman. Chestnut and steel clashing for a split second, he was the man's hand stretched out towards him, fingers shaking. Confusion filled him for the briefest of moments before he the torrent of violent pink petals hit him.

The pain was immeasurable as the tiny reflective blades massed around his eyes, cutting and slicing cruelly. He could feel Byakuya's regret and self-loathing. But he understood. He couldn't hold back the cry of pain that had bubbled up in his chest as he doubled over, the feeling of blood running down his cheeks was thick and heavy and the tang of metal hit his senses.

Blind.

He was blind. He couldn't see. He knew his eyes were intact but... The damage done at Byakuya's hand had rendered him completely blind. He knew why he had done it. He was... Proud of him for being brave enough to do it. The only way to protect him against Aizen's Shikai... Was not to be able to see it.

Gasping as his hands hit the floor, his body doubling over as he tried to push the discomfort to the back of his mind, he reached out instead to sense Aizen's reiatsu. He could still fight. Even without his sight he could still fight!

“Pathetic.” Aizen's tone was low, disgruntled, disappointed, “Perhaps... Perhaps there is still a chance, if I were to remove you from this messy muddle of 'loved ones' somewhere we could talk in private... I will see you in the real Karakura town, Ichigo. Don't disappoint me again.”

He felt the surge of energy as a Senkaimon opened, he let out a roar as he charged forwards, he could feel Aizen retreating. He couldn't let him leave! No! The man's reiatsu disappeared as the shōji doors slammed shut and Ichigo fell to his knees, panting heavily.

Aizen was gone. He was going to Soul Society. He was going to the real Karakura town.

“After all this...” He whispered hoarsely, “I wasn't strong enough.”

“Kurosaki-san.” Urahara's voice was gentle beside him, “Your strength was never in question... None of us knew how much the Hōgyoku would change him.”

“But if even I can't defeat him... What the fuck do we do?!” He looked up despite his blindness, towards where he sensed the blond to be, “He can't be allowed to make the Ōken! He can't use Karakura town! Orihime... Ishida... Chad... The twins... They're all there! I can't let them die!”

Ichigo felt a pair of arms wrap around him, the smell of blossoms wafting over him as he felt Byakuya's jagged breaths against his neck, the nobleman was shaking, whether from pain or guilt he couldn't tell.

“I'm sorry.” The Kuchiki heir whispered, “I'm so sorry... I didn't know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing.” The strawberry replied softly, his shoulders slumping, “Thank you.”

“Please... Please don't thank me for what I did...” Byakuya's voice cracked, “Unohana Taichou can heal you, she can restore your sight, Hachigen can assist if necessary.”

“It's alright.” He said numbly, he could feel the Division Four Taichou's presence, and the swirl of Kidō she emitted as she began healing him, “How is everyone?”

“Kuchiki-chan, Komamura Taichou, Yumichika-san, Iba Fukutaichou, Matsumoto Fukutaichou, Ukitake Taichou and Soi-Fon Taichou are critically injured. Isane and Hachigen-san are working together with Tessai to heal them. Also, those Aizen injured himself are receiving treatment.” Unohana replied, “Byakuya-san is mostly healed, although he requires more attention when I can deliver it.”

“I see...” He trailed off and hung his head as he felt the damage done to his eyes being reversed, “There must be a way to stop him...”

“There is.” Urahara said, “If there is one thing I was able to learn from the battle, it is that Aizen is being almost entirely protected by the Hōgyoku. If we are able to weaken him enough for the Hōgyoku to realise he is unworthy of being its' master... We may have a chance.”

“How in the Soul King's name do we do that?” Byakuya asked.

“By showing it someone stronger.” Ichigo said quietly, “The Hōgyoku is a living thing, it has a Soul. It has a will. It has thoughts and feelings... It has pride.”

“You are correct.” The blond murmured, “If we can break its' pride in Aizen, if we can show it that he is not the strongest person around... Its' loyalty will surely sway.”

“But how?” The Division Six Fukutaichou hissed, “We thought _I_ was strong enough... Who else is there?”

“We do not need anyone else, Kurosaki-san. You _are_ strong enough. You have successfully used the Hōgyoku once before, you managed to manipulate the power it emitted the night you met Aizen. That is proof enough that you can do this.”

“I can't!” He barked in annoyance, “You saw what he did! I could barely keep up once he got serious! He's too strong and I... I'm not good enough...”

“Ichigo...” The Kuchiki heir rubbed his shoulders, “You must know that's not true.”

“No, Byakuya! It's true! Once he got serious I couldn't stand up to him. He was too fast, too strong. He's better than I am... It's as simple as that.”

“Ichigo.” Urahara's voice was harder this time, “What is the one difference between you and Sōsuke Aizen?”

“What?” He frowned, the first glimmers of sight returning as he was able to see the blurred shape of those around him.

“What is the only thing he has that you do not? And I do not mean the Hōgyoku.”

“I don't know!” Ichigo spluttered, growling in annoyance, “I don't know. I-I can only think of the Hōgyoku... I mean... He's older than I am but-”

“Exactly.”

“How does that help me?!” He snapped.

“Urahara... You don't mean to...” Byakuya trailed off and Ichigo could hear the strain in his voice, “Do you even know how to...”

Ichigo blinked, clearing his vision as Unohana finished her healing work, his winced as the light hit his eyes but he looked between them two men, now able to see them clearly again, “What's going on?”

Urahara had never looked more serious, or more solemn, “The Dangai... The precipice world that lies between the World of the Living and Soul Society, the space between Senkaimon.” The blond folded his arms slowly, “It is not a method I would usually suggest using however... We are desperate.”

“Whatever you're thinking... Will it help?” The strawberry asked urgently.

“I... Believe so.”

Ichigo sucked in a breath and forced himself to his feet, clenching his fists as he stared at the blond, “Then tell me. Tell me what to do!”

Urahara took a deep breath, feeling Byakuya's glare as he met Ichigo's urgent gaze, “It is dangerous, it can be fatal...”

“Please... Tell me.” Ichigo whispered.

“The Dangai, the precipice world between Senkaimon... It is an isolated space which is surrounded and made up of numerous stacked up layers of time's current. Resulting in a place where the density of time within it is extremely high compared to other exterior dimensions such as Seireitei or the World of the Living. To be exact... It is precisely two thousand times denser. Meaning that when one hour passes on the outside world, an equivalent of two thousand hours pass inside the Dangai.” The blond tensed and let out a long breath, “Your father discovered a way to hold back the current for an extended period of time. He never exploited that technique, but he did tell me about it.”

“I don't understand... What are you telling me? What does my dad have to do with this?” Ichigo asked, confusion colouring his features.

“Urahara is proposing to hold back the current of time within the Dangai, to create a cavity where you can train.” Byakuya said quietly, his voice was heavy, angry, “Even though it could kill you.”

“Is that... True?” The strawberry looked at his Godfather, tilting his head.

“Yes.” He sighed, “In times of extreme need, a method known as Kaikyō Kotei can be used to halt the movement of the time current, creating a space where you can linger. Normally it would require several Shinigami of low levels of reiatsu to employ such a method, however... One of higher levels of reiatsu would be able to hold it back alone, or in fewer numbers.”

“So... You want me to go into the Dangai and train there so that I... Age?” Ichigo asked.

“Not exactly. This is where my plan differs from what Byakuya-san believes it to be.” Urahara straightened his back and released a long breath, “Isshin's Zanpakutō also gave him the power of Getsuga Tenshou. And within the wisdom of his blade was one more ultimate technique. Isshin never managed to complete the training for it, his Zanpakutō wouldn't allow him to. But there is another type of Getsuga Tenshou, stronger, vastly stronger.”

The younger man swallowed, fists tight at his sides, he could feel Tensa's rage at the conversation that was taking place, “Another... Getsuga Tenshou...”

“I don't know what it is, he never told me. However, undoubtedly Zangetsu contains the same ability. I am proposing that we go into the Dangai, and give you the time to unlock that ability in hopes that it will be strong enough to shake the Hōgyoku's will.”

“You could kill him!” Byakuya shouted suddenly, his teeth clenched tightly, “You don't even know if Isshin's technique is certain to work! You don't even know if you are strong enough to hold back the current! There are too many variables... To many chances for it to go wrong... I can't allow you to-”

“It's my choice!” Ichigo barked, looking at Byakuya with wide eyes, “I love you! And I know you want me to be safe! But this is my choice to make! If Aizen succeeds in making the Ōken then we will all die regardless! I'd rather die trying to do something than sitting around waiting for the inevitable to happen!”

“Ichigo... Please...” The nobleman faltered.

“It is my choice.” He said again, “I want to try.”

“There is nothing... Nothing I can do to change your mind. Is there?” Byakuya asked.

“No.” Ichigo's voice grew stronger and more certain, “I must... Do this.”

“Then... I accept your decision.” The Kuchiki heir said quietly, “I don't have the reiatsu left to come with you and help hold back the current... So I will have to see you afterwards, when you've won.”

The strawberry smiled slowly, reaching out to touch the nobleman's cheek, “I will win.”

“Urahara-san.” Starrk appeared before them, inclining his head to the blond, “Will this Dangai permit a Hollow within it?”

“Yes.” The blond replied.

“Then permit me... I wish to accompany you. I will help you to hold back the current!” The Primera said firmly, looking at Ichigo, “To help the Cero, to help Ichigo and Shiro, to help Karakura town. Allow me to come with you.”

Urahara seemed to hesitate but then nodded once, “Your reiatsu is significant. You will be able to help a lot.”

“Starrk... Thank you.” The strawberry smiled small at him.

“There isn't a moment to lose,” Urahara drew his sword, opening the Senkaimon, “We must go now.”

Ichigo nodded and swallowed back his fear, looking around at Byakuya as he forced a bold smile in the place of his anxiety, “I will see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” The nobleman said quietly, watching as the three men disappeared inside the Senkaimon, the shōji doors snapping shut behind them.


	79. Tensa Zangetsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Byakuya consoles an embarrassed and battered Sexta Espada, and discovers the truth behind Ichigo's delayed appearance in the battle from Unohana, the Cero enters a full on assault within his Inner World to unlock the secret known as the Final Getsuga Tenshou.

Byakuya watched the Senkaimon close as Ichigo, Urahara and Starrk disappeared into the world beyond, anxiety flooding his heart as he finally collapsed again, his injuries burning as Unohana immediately re-initiated his treatment. His injuries had been severe, and while she had managed to guide him back from imminent death the effort it had taken to blind Ichigo and then to console him had been great.

He stared up at the sky overhead, a deep set frown on his features. He barely realised that Grimmjow and Shinji had moved to his side, healed enough from Aizen's wounds that they could at least sit up and talk again. Their communications were strained, it was no wonder. The tide had changed so quickly and dramatically, he was sure barely anyone had been graced the time to acknowledge the not so subtle change of their enemies becoming their allies.

“How are you holdin' up, Byakuya?” Grimmjow's face was pale, his eyes were tired and his lips downturned in a glum expression.

“Who do you think you are talking to?” He muttered quietly, “I'm fine.”

“Uh-huh...” The blue haired Arrancar trailed off, picking at his hakama absent mindedly, “I... I wanted to... You know...”

“There is no need for apologies.” The nobleman interrupted him, eyes moving from the bright sky towards his face instead, “Gin told us how hard you fought against the drug, I know that you had no choice but to fight with everything you had. I'm glad you did. It was the right thing to do.”

The man's shoulder's seemed to slump, perhaps in relief or maybe in exhaustion, “Thanks.”

He wished he could smile, but the gnawing ache in his belly prevented it, “Shinji... Would you be so kind as to check on my sister, and Renji? And perhaps see how Szayel is as well.”

“Sure thing.” The blond patted his shoulder before getting up and walking away.

Byakuya returned his attention to Grimmjow and let out a small sigh, “So... Was everything you said during our conflict true? Your feelings... Towards me?”

The Sexta Espada looked away moodily, “Don't wanna talk about it. Don't worry... I know where the line is. I ain't the kind of guy to come between two people are deeply in love as you and Kurosaki. Especially not when he's my Cero. Got more respect than that.”

“I would never do you the disservice of assuming as much, Grimmjow.” He dabbed his tongue across his lips, “At the very least, let me confirm that I care for you. You became a close friend in Las Noches, and someone I would fight to protect. I have hopes that our friendship may continue now that you are free from Aizen's control.”

Looking down at him, bright blue eyes softened as a small smile graced the Espada's features, “Sounds good to me.”

Byakuya's gaze turned skyward again and he let out a breath, “Curse Kisuke Urahara for suggesting such a dangerous scheme. I wish I could have accompanied them... To make sure for myself that Ichigo remained safe.”

“Primera will see him safe.” Grimmjow muttered, “I'm sure of it.”

“I know he will...” The nobleman trailed off, his lips turning downwards, “But what of that which comes after the Dangai... If Urahara is to be believed this scheme will see Ichigo put on a better footing with Aizen... Maybe even surpass him. But making the Hōgyoku disloyal to him seems such a difficult task and I...”

“Kuchiki Taichou.” Unohana's voice was stern but serene beside him, “You know Kurosaki-san better than almost anyone here, you have seen him at his very worst and at his very best. Deep down you know his chances of success. I think, perhaps, we all do. For we have all seen him fight to protect his friends, and we have seen his anger when he fails. As he has time to think between this fight and the next, his anger will grow. And even if it seems like he will fail... I am sure his rage will make him stronger.”

There was a faraway look in her eyes that he couldn't place and his frown deepened, swallowing hard, “Unohana Taichou... Why was Ichigo late to the battle?”

She looked down, her hands shaking only slightly as she continued to push her healing forces through him, “He was... Captured by Aizen's assassin and confined within Kyōkan.”

“Kyōkan? That's where Norio was taken.” Byakuya's eyes widened slightly, “Don't tell me Norio was...”

“No.” She interrupted softly, “Kuchiki Taichou... The truth is far worse I fear.”

His mouth dried immediately at the look in her eyes, he'd seen it many times. He'd used it many times. The dispassionate tranquillity that came from delivering bad news. The worst news. Could it be...

“Aizen's assassin is called Izanshi, he is capable of taking on the forms of those he had stolen reiatsu from. But he is also capable of creating clones of himself, each able to use a different form.” Unohana began, “Kurosaki-san seemingly realised something was amiss with Norio Kuchiki's behaviour and ventured to the Great Central Underground Prison to investigate last night. There, he discovered that the prison guard was in fact the assassin, or one of its' bodies.”

“And... Norio?”

“I fear your cousin has been dead for sometime, Kuchiki Taichou, I'm truly very sorry.” She whispered, “The Hollow stole his reiatsu, and stole his form to continue acting within the Kuchiki Clan, and as a direct influence upon your life.”

Byakuya stared at her for what felt like an eternity, his heart thundering in his chest, he sat up slowly despite her best efforts to stop him and rested his head in his hands, “That's... That's why he was behaving so strangely. Why he refused to accept Ichigo willingly into the Clan, why he fought so hard against our relationship, why he helped Ichigo escape Seireitei... It was the Hollow... All along... Curses...”

“I fear you are correct.” The woman paused, “But I fear that is not the worst of it. The cell in which Kurosaki-san was imprisoned overnight was full of bodies. Shinigami... Dozens and dozens of them. Among them was my own Third Seat, Norio Kuchiki... But also... Hinamori Fukutaichou...”

He balked, eyes snapping up to meet hers, “No! Aizen's Fukutaichou?! I... I can't believe it... Does Hitsugaya-”

“Not yet.” She whispered.

Letting out a startled gasp, Byakuya looked down, “My God... We have been played so thoroughly from the very beginning. How did you know where to find Ichigo? When I called Urahara...”

“It appears that man had a similar suspicion to Kurosaki-san. When he received your call and arrived in Seireitei, he came to me. I had not long finished healing Zaraki Taichou. I heard him out, and we agreed that the best place to conceal someone like Kurosaki-san would be the prison. So we ventured there to find him. Urahara-san was aware of Norio's imprisonment, and suspected things where not as they seemed.”

“That man...” He clenched his teeth, “And so, Ichigo's fury at realising some of his friends have perished as a result of Aizen will fuel him once he has cleared his mind of the battle here. Perhaps you are right, Unohana Taichou, perhaps that alone will be enough...”

“You know him best.” She smiled.

“I guess I do.” He agreed, wincing momentarily as the first beams of brilliant sunlight struck his face as the clouds began to clear, the hues of orange and yellow seemed dull in comparison to Ichigo's hair, he let out a breath and a small smile tugged at his lips, “It won't be his rage that fuels him. It won't be his guilt, or his regrets. It will be love. The love of his friends, the love of his family.”

Unohana seemed pleased that his melancholy was fading, she continued healing him in silence. During that time, Shinji returned with the news that Rukia was past the worst of her injuries and would survive, along with Renji and Szayel. The relief between Byakuya and Grimmjow was extreme and the blue haired Espada finally left his side to venture and see his friend. Byakuya sucked in a breath and clenched a fist.

“Unohana Taichou, please... Do what you can as quickly as you can. I want to go after them.” He looked her dead in the eye, “When Ichigo strikes that bastard down... I want to be there for him.”

She looked over him for a long moment before nodding once, “I will do my very best, Kuchiki Taichou.”

* * *

Ichigo peered around the familiar city scape of his Inner World. He could sense Shiro and Tensa nearby, lingering just out of sight. Ever since he'd entered his meditative state they had been avoiding him, it was as if they knew why he was there. They knew what he wanted to ask them. He could feel their shared fear, their shared anger, their shared reluctance.

“Please come out... I don't have time to play games...” He whispered.

He had watched as Urahara and Starrk worked together to hold back the current of time in the Dangai, both men had connected to the Kaikyō Kotei and begun feeding their reiatsu into it. Apparently, Urahara had contacted Kurotsuchi not long before finding Ichigo in the prison and had requested that the man monitor any unauthorised Senkaimon. Should he sense a vast reiatsu like Aizen's, he was to divert it's course.

It would buy them two hours at the least. Inside the Dangai, that meant Ichigo could linger for close to four thousand hours, _if_ Starrk and Urahara were able to hold up that long. He didn't want to put them in danger by staying too long. He didn't have time to play games with Tensa or Shiro. He needed them now, needed to know what the other Getsuga Tenshou was capable of. He needed to win.

“The Final Getsuga Tenshou.” Tensa's voice came from behind him, full of anger and remorse.

“Final... Getsuga Tenshou?” He repeated, turning to face the spirit of his Zanpakutō, “Why have you been hiding? Don't you realise what we're up against?! I need this! I need to beat Aizen! Please help me!”

“No.” The dark haired man shook his head, “Absolutely not. Find another way.”

“There is no other way!” He exclaimed, “Didn't you see what happened out there?! I can't beat him like this! I need more power! I need your help! I need to protect my friends! I need to protect Karakura town!”

“I do not care about your friends!” Zangetsu snapped, fists clenched at his sides, “I do not care about Karakura town! Leave!”

“No!” He shouted, taking a step forwards, “I'm not leaving without your knowledge Zangetsu! Help me!”

“In all our years together...” There was a tingle of true rage in the Spirit's voice, “Through all the times you have used and _abused_ the power I have granted you... You have never before asked too much. But now you do, Ichigo. You ask... Too much.”

“I'm sorry!” The strawberry swallowed, “I'm sorry for the past, I'm sorry that I abused your power... Believe me if I could change it I would but... I can't. I have to ask this... I have to... I'm sorry.”

The growl of frustration the man released was mirrored only by the way his shoulders seemed to curl inwards, as if trying to protect himself. He watched as blue eyes narrowed furiously, lips thinning into a line, jaw setting.

“If you want the Final Getsuga Tenshou... You will have to take it from me.” Came the cold, brittle statement.

“So... It comes down to that? I have to fight you? I have to make you my enemy?” Ichigo shook his head, “This is madness...”

“No, Ichigo... I will not be your enemy.”

“We both will, King.” Shiro's voice came from behind the strawberry.

Ichigo tensed, realising he was stood between them, he was startled to see that Shiro's expression matched Tensa's. The albino too was full of anger, regret and torment. What on Earth was the Final Getsuga Tenshou to make them act like this.

“Fine, I have to fight you both and win. You'd better be ready to surrender that technique when I do!” He growled, lifting his hand as he flourished his blackened katana.

“Oh King... Yer still so naïve even after all this shit.” Shiro shook his head, the albino walked forwards, passing him without so much as a second glance as he moved to stand beside Tensa, “Ya ain't gonna be fighting us two to one... Yer gonna be fightin' us... Combined.”

The sunrise haired Shinigami faltered, watching as Tensa and Shiro disintegrated into pale blue reishi, the swirls of energy met and clashed, coiling around one and other before a new form took the place of the two sentient beings who had been there before.

His breath hitched in his throat as the world seemed to shake beneath the force of their reiatsu. The new form seemed mostly like Tensa, but his coat-like shihakusho had turned bleach white, while thick tufts of ebony fur rounded his neck and wrists like manes. His wavy length of hair had turned while like Shiro's and his skin seemed paler. Ichigo's stomach twisted as he saw one blue eye, and one golden and black as part of Shiro's blackened mask formed on the crown of the creatures' head. A single jagged horn stretching towards the sky with a malicious promise.

The sword in their hand, a white katana, was pointed directly at him. Fingers tight. Stance set. Eyes narrowed.

“What the fuck are you?” Ichigo asked, eyes wide as he stared at the new being before him.

“When you were born, your Shinigami powers were born with you. When Aizen used the Hōgyoku and you intercepted it, your Hollow powers were born. Originally, we should have merged as one being, but the fracture of your mind when you were forced to slay your family kept us as two entities instead of one.” He sounded like Tensa, but there was a faint silvery undertone, “We are both your source of power. If you want to learn the Final Getsuga Tenshou... THIS IS THE FORM YOU MUST DEFEAT!”

Ichigo lurched out of the way, rolling across the floor as the white blade impacted against the floor where he had just been standing. He felt the shock waves of the tarmac tearing apart, scattering up into the pair with the force of the blow. He barely had time to turn and block before Tensa was upon him.

They clashed in a frenzied fury of metal and steel, Tensa was faster than he remembered. His reiatsu was thicker. His strength increased tenfold. The merged being before him had all the skill of the Zanpakutō while retaining all the fury and force of the Hollow.

Terrifying.

Forced to duck and dodge, arm shaking every time he was forced to block a blow that would have killed him. Ichigo lost track of time, knowing only the fight. It genuinely felt like Tensa was trying to kill him. Trying to show him that he wasn't worthy of the Final Getsuga Tenshou. But there was something else, every time their swords met, all he could feel was overpowering loneliness flowing through the white form before him.

He couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand what would make his powerful Zanpakutō feel so lonely. He knew he'd mistreated him in the past, isolated him because of his affiliation with Aizen, but things had changed! Their relationship had changed during their combined efforts to force Shiro into submission in Las Noches. So why... Why was he so lonely?!

All he wanted to do in that moment was reassure Tensa. To let him know that he wasn't alone. That he wasn't abandoned or neglected. He wanted him to know that... He cared.

Ichigo cried out in pain as he was kicked so hard he was thrown through two skyscrapers, his body arching and bending as he broke through brick and concrete and skidding across the floor. Scuffs and cuts and grazes opened up across his skin, blood dripping from between his lips from biting his tongue.

He swore under his breath and picked himself back up, teeth gritting as he waited for Tensa's next attack. No matter what his Zanpakutō was feeling, no matter how much he wanted to comfort him. He had a job to do. He had to protect his friends. He had to protect Karakura town. He had to stop Aizen.

“Do you even realise how long we've been fighting?” Tensa asked, suddenly behind him.

Ichigo gasped and narrowly avoided being stabbed in the back, he swung around and deflected another life threatening blow, “It doesn't matter.”

“You've been here almost a month, I'm shocked you're still on your feet.”

“I have no intention of falling... Not until you teach me the Final Getsuga Tenshou!” He snarled, pushing against their grating swords as he tried to force Zangetsu back.

His response seemed to anger the Zanpakutō spirit, “I WILL NOT TEACH YOU!” He roared furiously.

Ichigo's fingers were numb from deflecting rage induced blows, his arms shaking, his shoulders aching. Every strike, every lash, every arch and every stab. He had several cuts, more than a dozen bruises. His body was aching and protesting. The battle continued relentlessly, and yet despite Tensa saying he'd been there for a month, it felt like no longer than a matter of minutes.

Panting harshly as he clambered free of the debris, Ichigo slumped forwards over a large lump of concrete, remembering Urahara's warning as he had entered meditation.

“ _Be careful, Kurosaki-san. Isshin told me that his Zanpakutō went wild during this process, more feral and deadly than ever before. If Zangetsu is anything like Engetsu was... You will need to use every skill you've ever learned to defeat him. Do not die, Kurosaki-san.”_

“Well... He wasn't wrong.” He muttered, grunting with the effort it took to stand. He was exhausted, but he couldn't stop now. He had to keep fighting. People were relying on him. And currently, only Kurotsuchi and Nemu were in the real Karakura town to defend it against Aizen. No matter how well the Division Twelve Taichou had done his job Aizen would eventually reach Karakura. He didn't have the time to keep playing.

He shot back up onto the roof of one of the skyscrapers, gasping in surprise when he was immediately engaged again. Ichigo grunted as more and more powerful blows registered against his sword, his arms deadening more and more with every hit. His legs were shaking with the effort to remain standing.

The strawberry's expression changed as he watched his blade blade beginning to crack, he tried urgently to disengage and put space between them but the merged form of his Zanpakutō and Hollow was relentless. He was pursued with each movement he made, blood flowing free as he received more and more wounds and snags and slices.

Ichigo let out a startled noise from deep in his throat, horror flooding him as he watched his sword break beneath Zangetsu's attack, his fingers tightened around the hilt. Even with a broken blade... He couldn't give up.

“Why... Why are you fighting so hard?” Ichigo asked, expression tormented at the broken rage he saw.

“Because...” Tensa's eyes flicked up to his face, but lingered there for only a moment before he seemed almost forced to look away, “... Of what I must protect.”

He didn't understand. The spirit of his sword and Hollow seemed so angry, and yet so utterly sad at the same time. The way he'd looked away... As if it hurt to look at him... What was going on? He couldn't help but consider that... If Zangetsu had really wanted to beat him then he would have done at the very start of the fight. If he truly didn't want to tell him the secret of the Final Getsuga Tenshou then he could have remained hidden. He could have stopped the fight at any time and concealed himself. Why was there so much sadness, loneliness and sorrow flowing from Zangetsu's white blade?!

His expression changed suddenly as he watched Zangetsu shooting towards him, his heart aching as he allowed his broken blade to slip through his fingers, clattering loudly against the rooftop. He saw Tensa's blue and gold eyes widen in horror, but he couldn't stop. He was too fast.

The white sword ran him through, plunging straight through his chest and heart. He could hear the splash of blood, feel the warmth of it running from the wound. Tensa had managed to hit him in the exact same spot as Gin had so many months ago, sliding between his ribs unhindered.

There was no pain.

Zangetsu looked up at him slowly, lips turned downwards mournfully, “Congratulations... You realised that only by accepting my blade could you acquire the Final Getsuga Tenshou...”

“I-It doesn't hurt...” He said quietly.

“Of course it doesn't.” Came the muttered reply, Tensa's voice turning strained, “If you accept this sword, the sword which came from you... There will never be any pain...”

Ichigo stared, feeling a coldness wash over him as he watched tears rolling down the pale spirit's cheeks, “Why... Why are you...”

“The Final Getsuga Tenshou. It is our ultimate ability, the most powerful we possess.” Tensa breathed, his hands quivering.

“Why... Why were you so unwilling to teach me it?” He asked, “Why are you so sad?”

“You don't understand what you're asking... How could you? It... Is a power with a tremendous price.” The Zanpakutō Spirit sucked in a shaky breath, tears continuing to flow free, “The price is too high. Too damn high.”

“No price is too high if it means protecting everyone.” The strawberry argued.

“I don't care about your friends.” Tensa breathed, “I don't care about protecting them. From the moment you were born you wanted to protect everyone around you. How easily you forget that a Zanpakutō is the mirror of your own soul.”

“What... Do you want to protect?” He asked.

“ _You_ , Ichigo.” The Spirit swallowed thickly, “If I teach you this technique... I will have failed to protect you. I will have failed the very thing I live to do. I will lose you Ichigo. Forever.”

“I don't understand.” He reached out, fingers brushing the pale cheek of the spirit.

Tensa seemed to press into his touch, teeth clenched as if experiencing physical pain as a broken sob escaped his lips, his fingers slowly loosened on the white hilt of the blade, hands falling to his sides as his body arched forwards. Ichigo could barely stand to see him so broken, so hurt. But he didn't understand.

Their eyes met for a long moment, Tensa's voice cracking with emotion, “The Final Getsuga Tenshou... This blade will teach you the meaning soon enough. Together with the essentials of the technique. Ichigo... If you use this technique you will...”


	80. Final Getsuga Tenshou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the weight of Zangetsu's words hanging over him, Ichigo makes the ultimate sacrifice in his battle to save Karakura town from Aizen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There are spoilers for the canon Bleach story in this chapter and spatterings of chapters afterwards, if you have not seen the canon ending and don't want it spoiled I don't blame you if you decide not to read onwards. But as ever, I have twisted canon with my own unique spin on things, a divergence I would call it. As always, thank you for supporting this story, we are approaching the end of Arc 2, there is 1 more arc to come :)

Standing slowly, Ichigo peered down at Urahara and Starrk. Both men were unconscious, the thin chains of the Kaikyō Kotei remained fastened around their wrists, holding the current of time at bay even while their energy began to falter.

The strawberry haired Shinigami looked down at the sword in his grasp, he could still feel Tensa's lament. The Zanpakutō spirit's words continued to haunt him. Swallowing hard, he severed the chains on both men and threw them over his shoulders, sprinting through the Dangai towards the bright exit up ahead.

He had no idea how much time had passed in the outside world, but he was startlingly aware that his waist length hair had grown even longer, he seemed to have grown a few additional inches in height and he felt... He felt vastly stronger. Was it the effects of having trained for so long? Was this what his strength would have been like if he had trained non-stop for what he could only assume would be close to one hundred and seventy days, if Starrk's calculations had been correct?

He sucked in a shaky breath and forced himself forwards. He couldn't take the risk of hanging around any longer. Who knew what condition Karakura town would be in if Aizen had even reached it yet. Kurotsuchi... Nemu... They could already be dead... Orihime, Chad, Ishida... The twins...

Ichigo burst free from the Senkaimon, immediately plummeting down towards the ground as he realised, with a jolt, that he was within the real Karakura town. They couldn't have been more than a mile away from the Ishida residence.

He could sense Aizen's reiatsu and dove towards it, easily picking up the energies of the very friends he had been worried about. Undoubtedly they had been forced to join with Kurotsuchi to try and hold Aizen back. He could see them, sprawled dramatically across the ground. His Human friends were uninjured, most likely crushed into place by the weight of the brunet's reiatsu alone. But Kurotsuchi and Nemu seemed in a bad way, bloodied, wounded, barely breathing.

Feet striking the concrete hard enough to split it, the strawberry lowered Urahara and Starrk onto the ground before he turned to face his once upon a time lover. Their eyes met, he found that the tremor of fear he had expected to feel was absent. He felt nothing. Just determination.

He could feel the eyes of those around them settle on his form, his fingers tightened around the hilt of his Zanpakutō.

“Aizen.” He said calmly, voice steady as his tattered coat-style shihakusho fluttered around him like blackened butterfly wings.

“I wondered if you would follow... But I must confess that I am disappointed. I no longer sense any reiatsu from you at all... Even if you were to suppress it, it would not vanish entirely.” The brunet seemed to tut, “You have failed to evolve. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps you do not possess _limitless_ potential after all.”

Ichigo could sense the jibe, and while he wasn't sure why Aizen could not longer sense his reiatsu he was almost certain that it wasn't as a result of him having grown weaker in the Dangai. Maybe... Maybe the opposite was true.

“Let's move.” The strawberry said, “I don't want to fight here.”

“A meaningless proposal. Such words are reserved for those with the strength to challenge me. Did you not hear me, I feel _less_ reiatsu from you now than I did the last time I saw you, so you are hardly in a position to-”

Aizen's monologue was silenced as Ichigo's hand planted firmly over his face, and with a sudden rush of air gusting around them, the brunet was thrown backwards by the force of the other man's physical strength. Eyes darting from side to side as he felt the world shift, blue skies moving in a blur overhead.

Ichigo's teeth clenched painfully, his fingertips digging lightly into the man's skin to keep hold of him as he forced them through the barrier created by the Tenkai Ketchu. He rushed forwards, steering them further away, aiming for the place everything had started. Fugai.

“I said... I don't want to fight there.” He breathed.

Ichigo released a yell as he threw Aizen away from him, watching as the brunet's body collided with the dense canopy of the Fugai forest. Now that they were outside of Karakura, now that they were away from his precious friends... He allowed the full extent of his power to wrap around his body. He would not be holding back any more.

“Why would you bring me here? To Fugai?” Aizen scoffed, brushing himself down as he appeared nearby, atop the cliff.

“This is where my life restarted. Twice.” The strawberry said softly, looking around them at the trees, “Once when you abandoned me here after using the Hōgyoku on me. And once when Byakuya revealed the truth to me concerning your involvement in my life. They were prominent events... Important... Life changing. It seems fitting that I bring things to an end here.”

“And you joked that you had surpassed your former arrogance. Ichigo... Foolish Ichigo, if anyone is going to finish things, it will be me. It is clear to me that there is no longer any hope of swaying you, or Shiro... You leave me no choice.”

They clashed in an explosive display, swords meeting for only a fraction of a second before parting and meeting again, dancing a vicious waltz of threat and determination. Their movements matched like perfect mirror images, as Ichigo allowed every inch of knowledge he had ever gained from the man to seep into his Soul, movements like water as he flowed around the cliff side. Aizen was a blur, a crushing whirlpool of sleek movements that never seemed to end.

Neither of them paid much attention to the landscape as they fought, neither taking note of how the surrounding mountains crumbled beneath each sword swing, or how a single dodge resulted in a landslide, or how their macabre dance uprooted the very forest below them, tree by tree; root by root.

The force with which their blades met released deafening cracks, the sound likened to that of a thunder storm. The boom of metal against metal. The crunch of muscle against muscle. The crushing weight of reiatsu against reiatsu.

Neither of them were breaking a sweat.

“In all the years I watched you grow and mature... I never once imagined this outcome.” Aizen chuckled, his expression borderline amused, “I never pictured us taking up arms against one and other. Fighting to the death.”

“I did.” Ichigo replied simply, glaring into chocolate pools with his own chestnut eyes, “I knew it in my Soul that one day... I would have to try to kill you.”

“I suppose I did train you to willingly kill whoever was necessary to advance our cause.” The brunet snorted, “Is it bad that, even now, I find myself proud of how you have matured?”

Jaw setting into a tight line, the strawberry responded, “You have my gratitude for everything you taught me, for everything you enabled me to do, and everything I have become as a result of it.”

“Hm.” Aizen's amusement seemed to grow, “Now you even sound like a proper noble.”

Ichigo ignored the jibe, spinning on his heel and slamming his open palm into the man's chest, taking a moment for himself as he watched Aizen hit the floor. He wiped his face, more out of habit than necessity, and felt the first trickles of sweat run down his spine.

Looking down at the black katana in his hand, Ichigo's expression changed as an overwhelming surge of loneliness struck him, it was so potent and so strong that is very nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

“I never realised...” He said aloud.

“What?” Aizen muttered, getting to his feet and glaring as he wiped the dirt from his white shihakusho, “Is this where you turn even more melancholic than you already have? Will you begin reciting your misdeeds and mistakes in hopes that I relate to you and vow to change my ways? That is the effect you have had upon my Espada, after all.”

“No.” Ichigo said simply, “I just never realised just how lonely you are.”

Eyes narrowing, the brunet released a low hiss, “Excuse me?”

“Your sword... It is practically screaming for someone to hear it. For someone to care. For someone to understand. Our Zanpakutō are reflections of ourselves... Of our very Souls.” His head tilted to one side, gaze entirely focused on Kyoka Suigetsu's blade, “I understand now. Why you said you'd build me somewhere that I could be myself. You weren't just making that promise to me, you were making it to yourself as well. Your sword is lonely. You are lonely.”

“How dare you-”

“Someone as strong as you... Born with extraordinary levels of reiatsu that others couldn't hope to comprehend if they realised... Born with a Zanpakutō that was blessed with such an overwhelming ability... You've never met another Soul capable of understanding your reiatsu, of understanding your power. You've been alone from the moment you were born.” Ichigo's eyes slowly lifted, meeting furious brown orbs, “That's why the Hōgyoku breaks down the barrier between Shinigami and Hollow powers at your command, it's not because of a morbid sense of interest or experimentation... It's because what you want more than anything in the world, what you crave with every ounce of your very being... Is to meet someone as strong as _you_.”

“Who do you think you are, to make such assumptions about me?!” There was no mistaking the anger that flowed through Aizen's voice as he shot forwards, sword swinging around so fast and so hard that the air around it whistled with the effort to part around it.

“If someone had realised sooner, if someone had held a hand out to you in true friendship and been able to match your power maybe they could have saved you from the darkness you plunged into.”

His expression remained troubled even as he lifted his left hand, fingers outstretched towards the oncoming blade. He made sure his eyes never moved from Aizen's, even as he felt the impact of Kyoka Suigetsu hitting his palm. Ichigo watched as Aizen's eyes widened considerably, horror seeming to cross the man's face at the sight of his Zanpakutō coming to a stop within the strawberry's grasp.

“What... Is the meaning of this?” The brunet breathed, “You... Caught it...”

“Why so surprised? Is it so unbelievable?” Ichigo asked, “For me to catch your sword? Is it something you cannot comprehend?”

The anger returned in place of the shock as Aizen tore his sword free and leapt back, his hand shaking with the rage pulsing through him, “Something... I can't comprehend, you say? It was simply a case of your physical strength momentarily exceeding mine. Something which will never happen again, by me crushing you to pieces with Kido!”

Fighting to contain the sigh which threatened to escape his lips, Ichigo watched almost with pity as Aizen lifted his hand towards the sky.

“Seeping crest of turbidity. Arrogant vessel of lunacy! Boil forth and deny! Grow numb and flicker! Disrupt sleep! Crawling queen of iron! Eternally self-destructing doll of mud! Unite! Repulse! Fill with soil and know your own powerlessness!” Aizen's voice was booming as he roared the incantation, “Hadō 90: Kurohitsugi!”

The sky darkened around them, violent hues of purple and black were thrown off into the clouds as multiple stages of blackened energy appeared from the floor surrounding Ichigo. He paid it no attention, his eyes never leaving Aizen's face, even as the wall which grew between them sealed the man from his sight.

“I have only ever shown you Kurohitsugi without an incantation in training, but now bare witness to its full power!”

Ichigo felt the chill of the air as the box sealed around him, refusing to flinch as every inch of space within it was speared with black energy. He released the smallest of hisses as his body was impaled in several different places, feeling the warmth of blood running against his skin.

“I feel sorry for you.” The strawberry breathed, lifting his left hand again he felt the blazing heat of his reiatsu trailing up the length of the limb, he struck out, sweeping from right to left. Cleaving through the black energy like it was nothing more than glass.

The shattering sound was deafening, and he tilted his head as Aizen came back into view. The brunet's face was contorted in disbelief and bewilderment.

“It is almost unbearable, isn't it?” Ichigo asked as he started walking forwards, taking careful and purposeful steps towards the man he had aspired to be like for so long, “The pain of being all alone. I know that feeling, I've been there. In that dark, and lonely place. But now there are others. Other people who mean a lot to me, I care more about them than I do myself, and I won't let anyone hurt them. They saved me from myself. They rescued me from that loneliness. They were the first to accept me as who I am. They are my friends. That... Is why I never give up. I will stop you, even if I have to kill you.”

“Silence!” Aizen barked, lashing out with every ounce of fury he could muster.

Their swords met again, and Ichigo felt the sting of metal on his shoulder, the tearing of skin and tendons. But he didn't stop moving. He kept walking forwards, watching as Aizen slowly retreated despite continuing to dance with new and contorted variations of his usual fighting style.

“Aizen.” Ichigo whispered, “The power I have right now... Is more than the power you have. You can't stop me.”

“Don't. Make. Me. Laugh!” Aizen plunged Kyoka Suigetsu straight forwards, willingly taking a blow to his ribs as he stabbed his sword straight through Ichigo's stomach, “If you were stronger than me, you would have dodged _that_.”

Doubling over with the pain of the sword entering his body, Ichigo released a faint wheeze, blood trickling from between his lips as his heart ached. He could almost feel Zangetsu vibrating in his grasp, a silent plea not to go any further. His eyes stung as he looked down at the black blade, and slowly he felt a bittersweet smile spread across his lips.

“I wish that was true.” He straightened up slowly, his muscles protesting the action as he brought the blade up sharply, slicing a jagged line along Aizen's chest.

They fell away from each other, both panting in pain as their respective wounds bled and wept and stung. Ichigo glanced over, his fears confirmed as he watched Aizen's wounds healing almost as quickly as his own were.

“The Hōgyoku has some remarkable gifts.” He muttered more to himself than Aizen.

“You have no idea.” The brunet spat as he stood straight, staggering only momentarily as he regained his balance.

As if sensing their conversation, the swirling orb embedded in the man's chest seemed to thrum at the praise it received, Ichigo watched it for what felt like an eternity, feeling a strange sense of familiarity with the whorls of colour etched within the glass ball. It had been twenty six years since he had seen it so close, so perfectly. At yet he remembered it like it had all happened yesterday.

Aizen took a moment to look around the landscape, seemingly finally noticing the devastation they had caused to the area, “Fugai... I haven't stepped foot here since I left you in the forest.”

“I wish I could say the same.” The strawberry muttered glibly, also taking a brief break to look around, “I hate this place. The forest. The mountains and the cliffs. The people. The lowest of the low, the cruellest of the cruel.”

“Indeed, it is something akin to what you might tread in.” The former Taichou chuckled softly, looking over at Ichigo, “Why don't we make this more interesting... And change locations?”

“What?” Ichigo's eyes snapped back to Aizen but it was too late. The brunet had disappeared.

Swearing loudly, Ichigo chased after him. He knew where he was going. He would return to Karakura town, he would use the advantage of Ichigo's Human friends to make him weary of using his full strength. If he held back... Everyone would die for the sake of making an Ōken.

Letting out a roar, Ichigo pushed himself harder, faster, further. His body was protesting, his soul was protesting. He could hear the rush of blood in his ears, the taste of metal on his tongue, the feeling of bile scalding his throat as the threat of being sick washed over him.

He could see the Tenkai Ketchu again and the pale green light that signified the barrier around the town, and he could see a blur of white and brown heading straight for it.

“ _Ichigo.”_

Chestnut eyes widened slightly as he heard Tensa's voice, his head turning slightly as he sensed the faint form at his side, he still had the appearance of the merged form from their fight. The wavy white hair, the paler than snow skin, the single ebony horn spiking outwards like an angry lightening bolt, the one blue eye and one gold eye, the white shihakusho lined with blackened fur.

“What are you doing?” He asked aloud.

“ _We've come to help you one last time.”_ The Zanpakutō Spirit said softly, _“To give you that speed boost you always seem to need at the very last minute.”_

“Thank you.” Ichigo whispered.

The warmth of Zangetsu's hand resting on top of his sent a jolt of strength through him. He watched as Aizen grew slower- no. Aizen wasn't moving slower, _he_ was moving faster. He was catching up. He whirled through the air as Tensa disappeared from his sight, letting out an agonising scream as he lunged, leaping through the air like a panther uncoiling every inch of muscle in order to catch it's prey.

Their bodies collided with a painful crunch, Ichigo and Aizen were sent to the floor, rolling and bouncing over bumps and boulders before stopping when they struck the side of one of the Tenkai Ketchu pillars.

Jumping back to his feet, Ichigo reached out, his fingers knotting in Aizen's length of brown hair as he swung him away from the real Karakura town, pursuing him relentlessly, swiping with his sword and his fists and his feet, using every ounce of his body, every inch of his physical being to push the man back.

“I will protect Karakura town with my life!” The strawberry barked, “You will not set a single foot back over that barrier while there is still breath in my lungs!”

“Then allow me to fix that!” Aizen yelled suddenly, his hand flying out, fingers wrapping around Ichigo's throat, “If all it will take... Is your death then so be it! Once I have created the Ōken, once I have entered the Royal Palace I will have all the power I need to fill the gap left by your demise! Only the next person I gift with power will have considerably less attitude than you!”

Ichigo released a short sharp gargle as his wind pipe was crushed, his body convulsing in the desperate attempt to suck in air. His eyes lifted from Aizen's face, looking towards the town he was trying to protect. He could sense, even from such a distance, the reiatsu of his Human friends.

Orihime, Ishida, Chad... They were all inside that barrier. Kaida was inside that barrier, that huge confident smile that illuminated her entire face like a sunbeam, dark blue eyes like her fathers', burnt orange hair like her mothers'. Hotaru was inside that barrier, shy but bold with a warmth in his cinnamon brown eyes that could melt even the coldest personality, spiky black hair reminding Ichigo of his younger years when his own hair had been an untameable mess of orange bluster.

Somewhere in that town were the other Human friends he had been gifted with as a child, ones he had not yet reconnected with. Keigo, Tatsuki, Mizuiro.

He wanted them to live. He wanted them to have long, happy lives. Enjoying the world, finding love, having families, having the mediocrity of boring jobs and hobbies that kept them happy when nothing else did. He wanted Kaida and Hotaru to grow up, to have the childhood he never had, to have the love of their parents for as long as they could. He wanted them all to _live_.

“You really think I'll die...” He spoke plainly as he glowered down at Aizen once more, “From something like this?”

He swung his arm around ruthlessly, striking the brunet across the face with the full length of the blade. He watched as Aizen recoiled from the force behind the hit, blood dripping ruthlessly down his chin, staining his clothing with scarlet splodges.

“It's time we finished this, Aizen. I'm sick to death of listening to you talk.” He lifted Zangetsu above his head, pointing the tip of the blade towards the sky for a fleeting moment before extending his arm towards his enemy, his left hand coming to rest on his right forearm, “This... This is the Final Getsuga Tenshou.”

Ichigo felt like his very consciousness had left his body as the world erupted around him in brilliant hues of startling blue light, christened with jagged searing lines of blackened reiatsu. He thought he had bonded fully with Zangetsu, with Shiro, in Hueco Mundo. But that had been nothing. Nothing at all compared to the feeling of his body changing. His mind mending. His Inner World becoming his outer world.

He felt Zangetsu crumble between his fingers, watching mournfully as his Zanpakutō decayed and became part of the reiatsu surrounding his body. The sight immediately reminded him of that moment, within his Inner World, when he had dared to ask Zangetsu for more power.

_Tensa seemed to press into his touch, teeth clenched as if experiencing physical pain as a broken sob escaped his lips, his fingers slowly loosened on the white hilt of the blade, hands falling to his sides as his body arched forwards. Ichigo could barely stand to see him so broken, so hurt. But he didn't understand._

_Their eyes met for a long moment, Tensa's voice cracking with emotion, “The Final Getsuga Tenshou... This blade will teach you the meaning soon enough. Together with the essentials of the technique. Ichigo... If you use this technique you will...”_

There was a sickness swirling in his senses, a deep plunge of regret and longing that he didn't dare grasp onto in case he became too afraid to move forwards. He had accepted his fate while running through the Dangai. He was so glad he had been able to join the battle in the fake Karakura town... He was so glad he had been able to free the Espada. He had been able to see them all. His friends. One last time.

“If I use this technique... I will lose my Shinigami powers.” He whispered.

As the reiatsu around him began to clear, Ichigo became more aware of the changes to his body. His waist length sunrise coloured hair had been corrupted to inky blackness, blowing around him in the gusts of wind created by his very presence. His Shiba tattoos had been replaced by finger to chest length black rings that coiled around his limb like one long snake, disappearing from sight beneath grey bandages. The wraps whorled around his chest and his right arm, leeching up his throat to cover the bottom half of his face.

He was acutely aware that his eyes were no longer chestnut, instead they were were the colour of blood, his irises glinting with the very instinct to overcome his enemy, the very instinct to draw blood and spread it across the horizon. His shihakusho was gone, his lower half clad in an inky black skirt of reiatsu that seemed to loosely resemble a hakama. His feet were bound by bandages.

Finally, his eyes moved downwards, to his right hand. Jet black rivets of reiatsu trailed along his fingers, trickling up into the air beside him like a warning of what was to come. He felt powerful. More powerful than he had ever felt in his life, and that was saying something. He had gone through so many changes, so many transformations, he had gained so much power, gained so much strength. But it was shadowed by what he held in his grasp now.

Ichigo could hear Aizen ranting. The brunet was in denial. Hollering, almost screeching that there was noway he could have so much power.

“I can't feel anything.” Aizen breathed, his eyes wider than they had ever been, “When I evolved prior to coming to this war, I moved to a level of existence beyond the Shinigami, they became unable to affect me. Thus, neither Shinigami nor Humans were able to sense my reiatsu, unless I deliberately restricted myself in order to allow them to do so.”

“Would it be of any comfort to you...” Ichigo murmured, “If I told you that there has never been a day where I have been unable to sense you?”

“That cannot be...” The brunet choked, “You cannot... Have gone beyond me... To a higher level of existence... Ridiculous! It could never happen! A mere Shinigami could never surpass me!”

Lifting his right hand, Ichigo flexed his digits, he could feel the power of Getsuga dancing at his fingertips ready to be called upon, “You are correct, Aizen. A mere Shinigami could never surpass you. But I am not a Shinigami! You made sure of it! I AM _HUMAN_!”

He clenched his fist, the outline of Tensa Zangetsu forming in his grasp as he summoned together the particles of his power, the single black streak of energy pulsing at his will as he lifted his arm high above his head.

“ _The enemy is one, and you are one. Cast off your fear. Look forward. Go forward. Never stand still. Retreat and you will age. Hesitate and you will die.”_ Ichigo thought silently, his Inner World devoid of his Zanpakutō's spirit now, _“Thank you Zangetsu. Thank you Shiro... Farewell.”_

Scarlet eyes narrowed with determination, the air around him turning ice cold as he focused everything he had on Aizen, a single word leaving his lips, “Mugetsu!”

Ichigo swung his arm down towards Aizen, watching as a massive veil of black reiatsu erupted upwards and hastily sped towards the brunet Shinigami. The sky darkened to a moonless black canvas as the energy surged upwards, dissipating into the air and allowing the clear blue to shine back through. Aizen released a howl of pain as he was enveloped in darkness, feeling his body splitting in half from the unbelievable strength of the reiatsu.

Taking a few steps forwards, the now black haired Shinigami watched as Aizen's body hit the ground not far away, he was horrifically wounded, but he was already beginning to regenerate again. There was a moment of panic as he wondered if his best had not been enough after all.

That was when he saw Kyoka Suigetsu snap in half.


	81. It Is Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoka Suigetsu is broken, both Ichigo and Aizen are dwindling in power. But they are both unwilling to surrender.

Ichigo dropped to his knees, releasing a small gasp as he watched Kyoka Suigetsu snap, the sudden wave of relief he felt was enough to render him dizzy. Surely it was a sign that he had won. That he had ended everything with a final swing. Scarlet eyes watched as the brunet Shinigami began to squirm, pushing up onto his hands and knees, Aizen was alive and his wounds had healed. But his reiatsu was fluctuating, uncertain and lacking its usual confidence.

“What is the... Meaning of this?” The brunet asked, picking up the two pieces of his Zanpakutō and staring blankly as they began to crumble in his palms, flaking away into nothingness.

“She is rejecting you.” Ichigo breathed, his head spinning so fast he was sure he might be sick. He crawled to one side, leaning heavily against a fragment of broken rubble, he slumped against it and allowed the brick to take his weight, eyes closing, “The Hōgyoku will reject you next.”

“Do not be ridiculous. I have subjugated the Hōgyoku! It answers me, it's master.”

“You're not it's master.” He muttered, his voice low as he felt fatigue wash over his entire body, making his muscles and bones ache, “Not anymore.”

“What have you done to me?” Aizen's voice was barely above a hiss as he demanded an answer.

The now black haired Shinigami sighed deeply, eyes fluttering open to glare over at his former flame, “The Hōgyoku... It has a will and personality all of its own. It's like a living person contained in a ball. The only way to defeat you... Urahara-san said I had to make your Zanpakutō and the Hōgyoku reject you. Both only work for you because you're the strongest being around them. To stop you... I had to prove I was stronger. Prove I was more worthy. Mugetsu... This form... Was the only way.” He whispered, “It's over. Aizen.”

“Over?” The brunet growled, slowly pushing himself to his feet, “This... Is not over.”

Scarlet eyes revolved around and fixed onto chocolate brown ones, a frown on his face, “What can you do? Without your Zanpakutō? Without the power of the Hōgyoku?”

Aizen lifted a hand to the single trickle of blood that had dared to break free from between his lips, swiping in one swift motion, “I can still make you suffer. I can still strip you of the town you seem to love so much, before your very eyes I can still sacrifice the lives of every living creature inside this barrier. I can still make sure you die knowing you are nothing more than a failure.”

Ichigo tensed as fingers gripped his long black hair, yanking his head back with painful sharpness. He was forced to glare into brown eyes, the eyes of a man he had once vowed to follow to the very end. And here they were at the very end, the end of everything they had shared. There was no going back. There was no changing his mind.

“You're right,” he breathed, “You can still make me suffer. Still take away everything I have left. You can kill me. Shame me. Hurt me. You can make me feel the same failure I've felt ever since remembering what happened to my family. But there is one thing you can't do.”

“Oh?” Aizen spat, “And what exactly is _that_?”

Ichigo clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw creaked quietly in protest, he narrowed his eyes and glowered up at the face of the man he would have died for once, “You can't _stop_ me.” He threw his head forwards with all his might, smashing the crown of his skull into Aizen's nose.

He felt the satisfying crunch and the splashing of warm wet blood hitting his hair and face, Ichigo immediately forced himself back up onto his feet despite the pain which was beginning to spread up from his fingers and toes. Swaying momentarily as his head spun and his vision blurred, he felt the urge to be sick rise.

“As long... As there is breath... In my body...” The former strawberry panted, shaking his head to clear his mind, hand flying up to block a jab from his opponent, “... This town... Will carry on...”

“You're getting weaker by the second.” Aizen growled, striking out and landing a heavy blow against the other's shoulder, “You can't hope to win.”

Ichigo fell, knees grazing on the floor. He instantly pushed back up, spinning on his heel and kicking dirt up into Aizen's face. When he heard the grunt of discomfort, he turned. Pounding at the man's chest and face. He pulled him closer, almost tearing the collar of his shihakusho... He heard the slight rasp of the material ripping under his fingers but he didn't care. The only thing he could bring himself to care about in that moment... Was the glistening town at his back. The lives encased within the barrier. The lives he'd sworn to protect.

He felt his head snap back and his body followed, Aizen's fist had clipped him under the chin sending him roiling into the rubble. The cry of pain that followed was barely muted by the feeling of several more punches and kicks striking deep into his chest and stomach. He spat blood and saliva and his vision blackened.

The pain had spread to his shoulders, to his hips. Coldness. Tingling. An ache he couldn't ignore. A throb. A growing sensation of frigid burning.

Scarlet eyes flew wide as he felt his reiatsu deplete suddenly. Eyes rolling, but his vision intact enough to see his long locks of black hair rip away from his natural spiky style. His breath hitched as he watched untidy orange fall into his eyes, his fingers twitching at his sides as he witnessed the black swirls of hair crumble into tiny orbs of reiatsu.

His mind was solemn. Silent. Empty. There was no voice inside his mind except his own. Tensa had gone silent. Shiro had gone silent.

The grey bandages surrounding his torso and his lower face cracked and crumbled, opening him up to another strike from his assailant. Panting heavily and unevenly, skull bouncing off the rocks as he received a blow to the face. His reiatsu was beginning to dwindle. He could barely lift a hand to try and block.

Aizen stopped without warning. His own breathing harsh. The brunet straightened up and brushed down his clothing, straightening his collar, “Now stay down.” He growled, stepping over the crumpled Shinigami.

Ichigo gargled, rolling onto his side lethargically. The air was growing more and more difficult to inhale. Every breath felt like microscopic slivers of glass clawing at his throat and his lungs. He knew why. His body wasn't processing reishi properly anymore because his reiatsu was going lower and lower. He was becoming a normal Human.

Allowing his eyelids to slip closed for the briefest of moments, he sighed at how heavy they felt. His will to fight was dwindling. He ability to fight was almost gone. Somehow Aizen was still on his feet, still capable of slaughtering Karakura town.

Had Urahara been wrong? Had Urahara's calculations been incorrect? He had done what he'd been told to do. He'd proved to the Hōgyoku that Aizen was not the strongest, he'd created that divide and as a result Kyoka Suigetsu had also turned on her master, so why... Why was he still moving?!

He was drifting. He could feel the darkness creeping closer. He could feel the tendrils of surrender clawing at his ankles. Sleep was calling his name. Or was it death? He could feel the blossoming injuries across his skin, bone deep bruises, his tanned skin was mottled and blackened in places, blood vessels broken beneath Aizen's violence. His eyes were slipping shut... He couldn't stop it...

“ _Goodness me,” Orihime's voice was soft but full of amusement, “I'm so sorry Kurosaki-kun! They've been excited to meet you all day!”_

“ _It's fine.” he found himself grinning, allowing his hands to rest on their heads as he ruffled their hair gently._

_His childhood friend walked over, giggling softly to herself, “The little one is my daughter, Kaida. And the other is my son, Hotaru.”_

“ _A little dragon, and a firefly huh?” he asked, amused by the meanings behind their names, “They're gorgeous.”_

“ _Ichi-ji!” Kaida released his leg and held her arms up, a hopeful smile on her face._

“ _You are a natural, Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime clapped her hands happily at the sight and hastily led them into the house._

Ichigo's eyes flew open. A raspy breath bursting free from his lungs. He couldn't give up. He couldn't surrender. There was a little dragon, and a firefly on the other side of the barrier who needed him to protect them. Orihime would never muster a barrier strong enough to stop Aizen. Ishida's arrows would never penetrate Aizen's skin. Chad would be too slow to land a hit. They'd die. All of them.

He clenched his teeth and let out a low groan, digging his fingers into the sand and dirt beneath him as he forced himself to sit up. Every fibre of his being, every tendon, every muscle and every bone protested. Insisting he remain down. His groan grew to a shout as he forced himself to stand up. Ichigo flipped around, staring at Aizen's back as the brunet continued to make his way towards the barrier. There couldn't have been more than a few feet between the man and his goal.

Looking down at his hands, they shook viciously, the pain was not forgotten but he managed to ignore it for the time being. Pushing it aside, just as Aizen had trained him to do. There was almost nothing left that he could do... Aizen suspected everything, knew everything, knew him... He needed something new... Something fresh... To gain the upper hand... But...

His eyes widened only a little as a wicked grin stretched across his lips. Maybe it was time he tried something he had never been able to do.

“ _You shouldn't doubt yourself. Doubt is the only thing which can limit latent talent.” The Kuchiki heir smiled softly, “Believe in yourself Ichigo, and others will do the same. Believe in yourself, and I know you will accomplish anything you desire.”_

“ _Except Kidō.” He grinned._

_Releasing a never before heard snort, Byakuya's eyes warmed, “Well, everyone needs a flaw.”_

“There... Is still... Reiatsu in me... Enough for this...” The strawberry snarled, clasping his hands together in front of him, “Bakudō 4: Hainawa!”

He could have cried as he watched the golden rope of reishi shoot forwards, winding around Aizen's body, forcing him to a half mid-step. Never in all his dreams, never in all his years, never in all his training had he managed it... Kidō!

“I'm not done yet!” He barked, “Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel. With light, divide this into six!”

Aizen's midsection was impaled by the beams of yellow light, the brunet had managed to turn just slightly, enough to fire a deathly glare towards the quivering, weakened Shinigami, “What do you think you are doing?”

“We both knew... Kidō was my biggest weakness... So it seems kind of fitting... To use it against you now.” Ichigo was gasping for breath, sweat rolling down his face, “You will not... Set foot... Over that barrier...”

“You think this pathetic level of Kidō can bind me?”

“No... But it can slow you down! You never should have taught me everything you knew!” Ichigo held his palms away from himself, eyes slipping shut with the force of his focus, he extended his arms out at his sides, bringing them in sharply to slap his hands together. His fingers intertwined, “ Bakudō 99, Part 1: Kin!”

Aizen's eyes widened sharply and he released a sharp hiss of pain as his arms were forcibly bent up behind his back, he watched as thick wraps of spiritual fabric wound around his body. His body stiffened further, if possible, the feeling of the iron shafts impaling the fabric into the ground, dragging him to his knees despite his struggles to remain standing.

Fingers trembling with exertion, his skin cold and clammy despite the heated sweat soaking through the remnants of his shihakusho, Ichigo dropped to his knees, fingers slamming into the ground, “Bakudō 99, Part 2: Bankin! Prologue – Halting wraps!”

His head was spinning as he watched the brilliantly blinding white reiatsu explode from beneath his hands, swirling and transforming, bending to his will to become dense white fabric. Aizen's face was encased first, forcing an enraged roar from the man.

“Refrain – Serial Hundred Bolts!” The strawberry set his jaw tightly, feeling the drain on his remaining power as he activated the secondary incantation, he stared ahead as Aizen was impaled by numerous metal bolts, piercing the fabric to keep it in place as he swallowed his body entirely.

“Finale – Fully Prohibited Great Seal!” Scarlet eyes that were slowly bleeding chestnut flicked to the sky as the immense metal cube formed above them both, he let out a small breath as it began to fall, gaining speed as it hurtled towards the ground.

He dived out of the way at the last moment, rolling onto his back as he watched the cube hit its mark, landing squarely on Aizen's entrapped form. The strawberry laid still, staring just in case the brunet came at him again.

For the briefest of moments he thought it was over again, but then the cube was illuminated with a bright blue glow and Ichigo felt the familiar wash of Aizen's reiatsu buffering against his skin. The cube crumbled.

“I have had enough... Of your games.” Aizen's voice was low, it was dangerous and it was deadly, “Hadō 33: Sōkatsui!”

Ichigo leapt to his feet, throwing his hands up in front of himself reflexively, “Bakudō 81: Dankū!” He flinched as the electrified reiatsu collided with his barrier, he could still feel the singes of heat rippling over his bare arms, and watched as streaky scalds appeared on his skin.

“Santen Kesshun!”

Ichigo lurched back as the triangular barrier formed in front of him, it took the brunt of the electrical current, buffering against the enormous explosion that followed. His head instantly snapped around, the breath leaving his chest as he saw Orihime stood behind Aizen, just beyond the barrier, her hands outstretched, Ishida stood to her right, and Chad on her left.

“What are you doing?!” He yelled, wincing as the barrier shattered, “Run!”

“No, Kurosaki-kun!” His childhood friend barked back, her expression fearful but determined, “You are not alone!”

“How heart warming.” Aizen breathed, eyes narrow.

“No...” Ichigo breathed, he could almost see how the man's thought process was moving and it turned his blood to ice.

The strawberry haired Shinigami released a breathtaking roar, adrenaline pumping through him with abrupt certainty, thrusting his limbs into nimble action as he sprinted forwards, bursting into a severely slower Shunpo than what he was normally capable of.

His right hand flew out to his side, fingers tensed as energy began to crackle in his palm, “Hadō 63: Raikōhō!”

Ichigo slammed his hand directly into Aizen's chest, forcing the orb of yellow lightning to chafe against the Hōgyoku. He made eye contact with the man, his mouth opening as he released another roar, thrusting his left hand forwards, “Hadō 32: Ōkasen!”

He felt the burn of the Kidō surround his body. He was certain that for a moment he had blinded himself permanently. The horizontal arc of yellow that he released mingled with the power of the lightning in his right hand, exploding between their bodies with an intensity he'd never felt from Kidō before.

The detonation was calamitous. Ichigo felt like his body was being torn apart. He could feel the heat of blood washing over him and he wasn't sure if it was his own or Aizen's. Or a mixture of both. He heard the brunet release a cry of pain, but his own seemed to drown it out as he hit the floor. He skidded, the grit and rocks cutting into his skin as he came to a stop face down in the dirt.

He wasn't done... He couldn't stop... He had to make sure... Had to finish... The job...

Weak arms pushed him up, each tiny movement created a new and fresh agony that ripped into him. He could feel his wounds stretching. Gaping. Tearing. He could feel his energy sapping with every fraction of a second. His eyes were focused on the slump of white ahead of him.

His fingertips brushed the crumpled, burnt textured fabric of Aizen's tattered coat and he used it to pull himself upwards. He climbed over Aizen's motionless form, straddling his waist and using his chest to push himself into a seated position. He was drooling, saliva dripping free from his chin in a mingle with fresh and old blood. He didn't care.

Ichigo clenched his right fist, drawing his arm back as far as he could as he watched brown eyes open slowly to stare up at him.

“I would... Have followed you to... The very end of the world... I would have sat at your feet... I would have cut down anyone... Who dared get in your way... But then I remembered something... Something important...” He didn't care that his blood splattered Aizen's face as he spoke.

“And what... Was that?” Aizen rasped out, throat sounding raw.

“I remembered my vow.”

The impact of his fist connecting with Aizen's face sent shock waves up his forearm and left his fingers numb. He sat back limply as he watched Aizen's eyes roll up into his head, the man was finally unconscious.

Finally.

He collapsed only a foot away, arms and legs spread wildly as he stared up at the blue sky overhead. As the adrenaline began to fade and his mind slowed, the pain of his injuries began to make sense and he felt himself shaking. He didn't dare look down to assess the damage for fear of what he would see. On top of that pain, he could feel the last dregs of reiatsu beginning to seep away from him. He lifted his hand up over his face, watching with a sluggishness as thin wispy tendrils of black and red reiatsu began to coil their way free from his fingertips. His eyes sliding to his arms, his heart sinking as he watched his Clan tattoos lifting free from his skin and dissipating into the air.

“Kurosaki-san.” Urahara's face appeared over his, the man's expression was solemn.

“I-It's over... Urahara-san...” He croaked, “It's over.”

“Yes... It is. I have activated a Kidō seal which I stored within Aizen's body earlier today... It would not activate until you had weakened him enough for it to work. Because of you... He will face the justice he deserves.”

The blond glanced towards where Aizen had been, Ichigo's eyes followed sluggishly, blinking twice in quick succession as he found himself staring at a single, vaguely start-shaped white barrier, Aizen's form hidden from sight. Ichigo could no longer feel his reiatsu, he wasn't sure if it was because of the seal or because his own powers were fading.

“You saved them, Ichigo.” Urahara swallowed, “You saved them all.”

“What wouldn't I do... For the people I love...” The corners of his lips quirked into a lazy smile, “You knew... Didn't you? About the Final Getsuga Tenshou...”

The man's head lowered, eyes shadowed with guilt, “Yes... I knew. I could think of no other way to stop him. And so I manipulated you... Because of me you are losing everything...”

“I'm not... Losing everything...” He said softly, “Losing everything... Would be... Failing to protect my family... And forgetting about them... That... Was everything...”

“You've grown wise, Ichigo.” Urahara took in a sudden breath, “We need to get you beyond the barrier, you need healing urgently or... Or you may still die.”

Ichigo cried out as he was scooped off the floor, his body limp as he felt Urahara's arms holding him close to his body, seemingly not caring about the blood or the mess. He felt strangely safe. The sunrise haired Shinigami felt the brief change as they passed through the barrier and soon after he felt the coolness of Orihime's tears hitting his face as she summoned her healing powers.

“Urahara-san...” He winced, squinting up at his Godfather as he was passed into Chad's stronger arms.

“Yes, Ichigo?”

“I... I don't want to just... Disappear...” He felt a pang of panic, “I don't want them wondering... What happened... When they get here... I-I... They need answers... They need to know... Byakuya...”

He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw tears in the man's eyes, “I will stay and wait for them. I will wait for them, you have my word.”

“Thank you...” He gasped out, his eyelids growing heavy, the throbbing in his head increasing, “Thank you.”

As Ichigo gave into unconsciousness, the darkness swallowing him away into a pit of crippling pain as well as the soothing touch of Orihime's powers, his head lolled back over Chad's arm and his kenseikan slipped free from his hair, landing at Urahara's feet. Breaking on impact.


	82. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul Society comes to terms with the end of the Winter War, dealing with things in their own way, but this time with some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone reading this story, and a happy new year!

Byakuya watched from the very back of the chamber as Aizen was sentenced to imprisoned within Muken. His body contained by black seals that even someone as powerful as Sōsuke Aizen couldn't break.

It felt like a hollow victory when he thought about how it had been won.

“ _Ichigo...” Urahara paused, “He has lost his Shinigami powers. Orihime-chan, Ishida-san and Sado-san have taken him back to Karakura town to treat his extensive wounds... And to help him recover.”_

“ _Can I see him?” Byakuya asked immediately, his palms sweaty._

“ _I don't think that would be wise, Byakuya-san. He was in a very bad way, his battle almost killed him... And, besides that, he won't be able to see you.”_

_Byakuya's heart crumbled at the news, the weight of the world crushing down on his shoulders as he felt a wave of grief wash over his entire being, “He gave up everything to stop Aizen... No one could have asked any more of him than that.”_

“ _He doesn't see it that way.” Urahara told him, “He said that as long as he saved someone he cared about he'd never lose everything again.”_

“ _I suppose that's true.” He whispered, looking longingly towards the town._

_The blond touched his shoulder momentarily in an act of comfort before sighing heavily, “He didn't want to disappear and leave you without answers... I fear my explanation will never do justice to what he did today.”_

_The nobleman fought to pull on his mask of indifference, “You have my thanks for sharing the news with me. I'm sure you too are exhausted from your time in the Dangai.”_

Byakuya sucked in a breath, it truly did feel like a hollow victory, when Ichigo should have been stood beside him to see Aizen lowered into the depths of the prison. Instead, Renji was beside him. The redhead had barely spoken a word since the news of Ichigo's fate had been shared, Byakuya could only imagine how his former Fukutaichou felt.

“Let's go, Renji.” He said gently, “We've seen what we came to see. The other Taichou will be waiting for us.”

“Yes.” Was the simple response.

They left Division One together, walking side by side in silence. While Renji glared at the floor, Byakuya stared up at the sky. Neither of them looked anything short of lost.

Tilting his head, the nobleman detected the faint sound of celebration echoing across the city. The Divisions were celebrating the end of the Winter War, the defeat of a powerful enemy and the successful protection of an innocent town in the World of the Living. Half of them didn't know what had been lost in order to win. But he couldn't blame them for the elation. But he knew he couldn't share it.

They arrived at Sôkyoku Hill, greeted by a far larger gathering than they had expected. There were familiar faces at every turn, from every Division. Taichou and Fukutaichou side by side. Kyōraku and Nanao were stood with Ukitake and Rukia, their conversation hushed, comforting if Rukia's expression was to be trusted.

Soi-Fon and Ōmaeda were hovering on the outskirts, the stoic and usually dismissive woman seemed to have broken free from her usual coldness. Her lips downturned with sadness instead of disinterest, her brow furrowed with inner pain instead of anger.

The faces of Kira, Hisagi, Iba and Matsumoto stood out, grieving, but battling through it with friendship and laughter. Even if the laughs were hollow and the smiles empty, they were trying to keep going forwards. Trying to cope.

Unohana and Isane, uncharacteristically stood with Kurotsuchi and Nemu. No words were exchanged. No glances. But it seemed a touching sentiment.

It took him a moment to focus, but Byakuya soon saw the towering figure of Kenpachi, Yachiru on his shoulders, Ikkaku and Yumichika at his side.

Hitsugaya was stood alone, staring off into the horizon with a blank, gaunt expression. He had been silent since learning of Hinamori's death, his hands clasped tightly around one of her hairpins. Shaking. Grief stricken.

But there were other faces, other presences. The Visored. All of them, they had come to pay their respects as well. Urahara, Tessai and Yoruichi were with them, likely making sure they felt safe in a society that had previously tried to execute them.

The most startling guests, however, were the Espada. Further away from everyone else, solitary and in self-seclusion, clearly unsure if they should be there or not. Starrk and Lilynette, Harribel, Grimmjow and Szayel. Nelliel was holding Nnoitra's eyepatch, the only thing the Espada had left behind upon the moment of his death.

Byakuya could almost taste the sorrow in the air, it was almost enough to make him retch. He looked down, reaching into his pocket and retrieved the two fragments of Ichigo's kenseikan. Urahara had returned it to him. He felt his throat constrict at the sight, and wondered if Ichigo had even regained consciousness yet.

“Nii-sama?” Rukia's face came into view.

Forcing a small smile onto his face as he saw how red and puffy her eyes were, he put an arm around his sister and pulled her close, “Rukia.”

“K-Kyōraku Sou-Taichou is about to start... I'm glad you made it in time.” She whispered, playing absent-mindedly with the hem of her shihakusho, “How long did...”

“20,000.” Renji said softly.

“Good.” She breathed.

“Come,” Byakuya murmured, “We should take our proper places.”

The three Shinigami moved towards the crowd, the other Shinigami present began to separate into a formation similar to that of what was correct during meetings. Taichou and Fukutaichou side by side. Byakuya's heart ached as he glanced at the empty space beside him, his fingers clenching the kenseikan just a little tighter.

“I feel as though this is a duty I have performed far too often as of late.” Kyōraku began, rubbing his chin as he looked at the four pyres behind him, “We are gathered together here because we won the war, but great sacrifices were made in order to be victorious. For the first time, we stand here as Shinigami... With friends from very different walks of life. The Visored who were once a part of our lives, and the Espada who have become our allies. I hope their presence represents how we as a society can change, given the right motivation. As such, I'd like to invite you to stand with us properly, please join our ranks. We have all lost people, we must all grieve together.”

Byakuya smiled faintly to himself, Kyōraku was an admirable leader. Far more open minded than Yamamoto had been. He saw surprise reflected on the faces of the Arrancar, but they all moved forwards in silence, coming to stand by the sides of some of the Taichou.

Szayel found himself beside Kurotsuchi; Grimmjow barely looked out of place beside Kenpachi's savagery; Nelliel clasped her hands together beside Unohana and received a faint smile from the healer; Harribel approached Hitsugaya and Matsumoto and was welcomed with a nod of the head; Starrk seemed to loiter for a moment before his eyes met Byakuya's and his head tilted to the side as he stared at the empty space around the man. The Primera strode forwards and stood beside the nobleman, Lilynette seemingly content with his decision.

“In my eyes at least, I can see no better way to honour the lives of the people we lost than to stand together as one heart. As one Soul.” The Sou-Taichou murmured, gesturing to Nanao to begin lighting the pyres, “I would like to begin this memorial by paying my respects to those who have passed. I fear I can say little for your Nnoitra, I did not know him, but at the end if any of the Espada wish to share some words I would welcome you to do so.”

“You have our gratitude.” Starrk rumbled softly from beside the Division Six Taichou.

“In the meantime, we begin today's memorial by acknowledging the passing of Sajin Komamura Taichou and Momo Hinamori Fukutaichou. While they have left us, their sacrifices helped to bring us victory against a terrible foe. They will not be forgotten, nor will their deaths be in vain.” Kyōraku glanced towards Iba and Hitsugaya, “If you would like to step forward and say a few words, now is the time.”

Iba went first, Komamura's old helmet clasped between his hands. He bowed to those watching and placed the helmet on one of the pyres, “Komamura Taichou had a heart of gold and an unshakeable loyalty. He hid himself away for so long because of his appearance, I'm only glad that by the time he died... He was confident enough to die facing his enemy straight on. I will continue to live my life, but I will do it while following the code of conduct he taught me.”

Byakuya joined the others in bowing their heads as the Fukutaichou of Division Seven returned to his position.

Hitsugaya was quiet for a long moment, looking at the hairpin in his hands, “Hinamori... Was my friend. My closest friend. My dearest friend. She was... Kind, and warm... She visited my grandmother in Rukongai when my duties kept me away. She never stopped calling me Shiro-chan, I hated that nickname when I was younger, and... I pretended to be annoyed when she called me it, but the truth is that... It grew on me. Just like she did. My greatest shame is that... She died alone. Someone as loving as Momo... She deserved far better than that. But we got justice for her. We all... Avenged her death. I think... I think she can rest in peace. And I will try to live my life in her memory, doing what I can to make her proud.”

Once again bowing his head, the Kuchiki heir watched as the white haired Taichou placed Hinamori's hairpin into the pyre dedicated to her before returning to his position among them.

“Thank you both for your words.” Kyōraku murmured, taking in a deep breath, “Before I pass you over to one of our Espada guests... I feel I must address the elephant in the room. The lack of ostentatious orange in our midst.”

Byakuya let out a small breath, trying to conceal the wince that threatened to take over his expression. He felt Starrk shift uncomfortably at his side as well, and assumed the Primera sensed the discord in his aura.

“Ichigo Kurosaki.” The pink kimono clad murmured, “A traitor, most certainly in his early years among us. But more recently... A fierce, fierce friend to all. He affected us all in different ways. Giving us the courage to be ourselves, teaching us not to hide what makes us strong, showing us that people can come back from the very brink of darkness. He sacrificed his life here among us, among friends and family and loved ones so that we would survive. Kuchiki Taichou, would you care to share a few words about him?”

Reigning in the dreaded pit of anxiety which abruptly came to life in his gut, Byakuya approached the third pyre, he stared at the flames for strength before addressing those present, “Ichigo... Changed immeasurably as a person during his time in Division Six. It was a privilege to see that happen. To see this... Cocoon of a person open up to become someone so beautiful and true. Words will never be enough to describe his importance to me, or to his friends. I know without a doubt that... In the last moments of his battle with Aizen it was the memory of us all, Human; Shinigami and Hollow that gave him the strength to snatch victory. He was born to protect. His is not an absence we can forget or make better. It is one we simply have to learn to live with.”

He hesitated for a moment, but turned and gently placed the broken kenseikan within the flames. He watched as they were consumed, and slowly returned to his position beside Starrk. He could feel Renji and Rukia's eyes on him, as well as Grimmjow's. It was unsettling to discover that the number of people capable of reading his well kept emotions had increased.

“You have my immense respect and gratitude for sharing your feelings, Kuchiki Taichou.” Kyōraku let out a long breath, adjusting his hat before he glanced at the Espada, “If you wish to speak of Nnoitra, you may do so now.”

There was an awkward silence, and Byakuya was sure no one would say anything, but then Starrk cleared his throat.

“Speeches aren't really my thing... Especially not in front of such a large gathering...” He tucked his hands inside his pockets, “Nnoitra was a bastard. Like, not your run of the mill bastard who gets on your nerves every now and again. He was the kind of asshole who actively enjoyed winding everyone up. He loved getting a reaction. He loved getting attention. But... No one would fight harder than him. He fought because he loved it, but... Also because he cared. It was a twisted kind of care, not something you'd expect from him at all. But in truth... He didn't want to be alone anymore. He wanted to fight because if he defeated the enemy it meant we didn't have to fight them.”

“He was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch.” Grimmjow muttered gruffly, folding his arms as he looked towards the pyres, “But when it counted... He was with us all.”

“He hated me,” Nelliel whispered, “He hated what I stood for. But he could have killed me and he didn't. He didn't land a finishing blow when he knew he probably should have. We spoke a little bit when I rejoined the Espada... He still hated me but we settled our differences. He was an idiot, but he was strong. I guess... I'll kind of miss him.”

Byakuya watched the green haired woman walk towards the last pyre, she glanced at the eyepatch in her hands for a long moment before resting it within the flames, bowing her head before returning to her former position.

The memorial drew to a close, with those present fulfilling the usual ritual of condensing their reiatsu into small Soul-like orbs, releasing them into the sky. Byakuya's breath was taken away as he watched them, his heart throbbing painfully as he watched the orbs of the Shinigami, the Visored and the Espada merged together like dozens of little stars, bringing light to an otherwise inevitable darkness.

As the scattering of vast people parted, Byakuya turned to look at Starrk, “What will you do now?”

“I'm not sure.” The Primera said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I suppose we should return to Hueco Mundo. But somehow it doesn't feel right to continue living in Las Noches, not after everything that happened there... It would not be a home.”

“Then why not stay here?” Renji asked as he walked over.

Starrk snorted, “Hollows? Living among Shinigami?”

“Why not?” Rukia asked, leaning against the redheaded man, “You've shown you are all capable of fighting your Hollow instincts. You are warriors... And you are good people.”

“You'd want to kill us after a week, I'm sure.” Harribel mused, smiling faintly at them.

“Besides,” Szayel flicked his hair over his shoulder, “Where would we stay? I can't imagine all Shinigami being as welcoming as you three.”

Byakuya sighed, frowning faintly as he glanced around. While he was sure almost everyone present would be more than happy to assist in accommodating them, it would be unfair and unrealistic to assume the same of all Shinigami. That was the kind of change that had to be done over time. The Visored would be far easier to integrate back into Soul Society if they wanted to stick around, they had been a part of Seireitei before, they were known.

What they needed was space. A place for the Espada to live, for them to merge with Soul Society in a slow and controlled way. Nothing rushed. Then, he smiled. Ichigo truly was the gift that kept on giving.

“The Shiba Estate.” The nobleman murmured, “Ichigo had it reopened, but he hadn't moved in. His Cousin didn't want to move back into Seireitei so... It's just sitting there. He would want it to be used.”

Starrk stared down at the raven haired Taichou, “It is a kind offer, and it would be an honour to assist in keeping the Cero's home in use during his... Absence. But are you certain?”

Byakuya raised a single eyebrow, “You would be doing me a favour, it would save me having to tend to it with my own staff.”

“Allow me some time to talk it over with the others, we should all have a say in our futures now that they are our own again.” The Primera murmured, “But your offer... Is truly appreciated.”

“An offer of this sort... Is the least I can do for people I consider friends. Come to the Kuchiki Estate later today, we can discuss the details then.” The nobleman said simply, giving a curt nod of his head before walking away. He had exhausted his willpower to remain among other people for the time being.

All too soon he reached the Kuchiki Estate, the mansion looked so homely from the outside. The blossoming trees seemed so familiar and bright. But at the same time... It all looked so cold and uncaring. He had to force himself forwards.

Casting a slow and solemn look around the entrance hall, Byakuya allowed his shoulders to slump, his throat tightening as he half expected a bundle of bright orange to come hurtling towards him through one of the doorways. But that wasn't going happen. That was never going to happen again.

A sharp knock on the door behind him made him flinch, turning slightly on the spot he found himself looking at the somewhat sheepish smile of Kisuke Urahara. Byakuya felt his mood take a sharp turn for the worse.

“What do you want?” He hissed bluntly, in no mood for pleasantries and since their last talk his ire with the blond had increased for several reasons.

The abysmal fan was drawn from the blond's sleeve as he stepped over the threshold, “Now, now Byakuya-san, I don't _think_ I've done anything to warrant that fierce expression lately.”

“As the creator of one half of the Hōgyoku, I intend to hold you responsible for at least half of what has happened ever since.” The raven haired Shinigami answered sharply, “Consider yourself warned. If you step out of line... I will come for you.”

Urahara bowed his head, “I'd expect no less from the Head of the Kuchiki Clan.”

“What do you want, Kisuke?” He said again, turning to face him fully.

Lowering his fan slowly, the blond flashed a grin, it didn't reach his eyes, still darkened with a solemn sense of guilt that seemed to weigh heavily, “I've come to give you... At least a little glimmer of hope.”

“Hope?” Byakuya scowled, “Hope of what?”

“You should know me well enough by now... I'd have thought it was obvious.” Urahara looked away for a long moment, “Ichigo is my Godson... I failed to protect him from Aizen when he was a child, I failed to protect him from Aizen as he grew up... And I threw him to the wolves to stop Aizen making the Ōken. I'm a terrible guardian. Isshin and Masaki would be ashamed of me.”

“What are you saying?”

“You didn't really think I would sit back and allow Ichigo to suffer because of my selfish failings and his selflessness... Did you?” The man glanced up sharply, “I don't know how long it will take me... I can make no promises... But I am going to do everything I can to bring him back. So, at least for the meantime... Don't kill me off, Byakuya-san.”


	83. How Do I Live Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month has past since Ichigo lost his Shinigami powers, after recovering from the Winter War, he now faces his hardest challenge yet. Learning how to live the life he would have had, if the Hogyoku had never been used on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've arrived at the third and final Arc of Dark Hearts, I fondly refer to it as The Equilibrium. We'll see Ichigo's struggles with Humanity and a "normal" life, while clinging to hopes that Soul Society will come back for him, as well as some of Byakuya's experiences with dealing with Ichigo's disappearance from his life. Thank you as always for your support for this story, I hope you enjoy the coming chapters, and ultimately the end of the story... For now.

There was a carnival in town, stalls and rides flooding the park with vibrant colours and loud music, the sound of laughter and life as the residents of Karakura turned out to enjoy the fading chill of winter and excitement. Men, women, children, grandparents, friends. Everyone was welcome, everyone was equal.

Ichigo watched as the Ishida's wandered amidst the chaotic throng of Humans. Kaida and Hotaru were practically bursting with excitement, asking to go on all the rides, begging for sweets and drinks and fun. Ishida and Orihime didn't seem capable of saying no when they saw how happy their children were.

He'd accompanied them, but soon after arriving he'd left them to go off on their own. He didn't want to be a burden, an add-on to their perfect little family. He knew he was welcome, he was always welcome. But Ichigo didn't want that. He didn't want to be a spare part. He didn't want to pretend he was okay.

It had only been a few short weeks since he'd finally woken up from losing his Shinigami powers. According to his Human friends, he had been unconscious for little over a month as his body adjusted to no longer having reiatsu. Apparently, Urahara had guided him through a Reishi Henkan-Ki to allow his Shinigami body to return to a Human one.

Those first few days of consciousness had been horrific. Simple tasks like eating and drinking had made him ill, his body taking time to realise it no longer needed to use food as fuel to maintain his reiatsu. He'd been sick, very sick. Throwing up violently after every meal, after a simple cup of tea. There had been moments... Brief moments amidst the pain where he wondered if death would have been kinder.

But he was beyond that now. Sometimes his skin felt a little too tight, like it was a Gigai, but he thought perhaps that was his imagination. He could eat and drink, he could sleep and rest. The dark thoughts of escaping the pain were gone, the agony of being separated from Byakuya remained.

His heart ached almost constantly, like a slowly churning chill that reached above and beyond the organ's fleshy muscle. It was a Soul deep pain. Like he had been torn away from his soul mate. Part of his very being. A limb.

He woke in the night, longing for raven hair and steel eyes. A warm embrace to comfort him, a strong embrace to protect him, a loving embrace to remind him that he had overcome the darkness. Byakuya. They should have been planning their wedding.

Instead he was standing by an apple candy van in Karakura town while he watched his Human friends enjoying fun that seemed stale to him. He would smile and wave whenever they looked at him, but he couldn't feel the excitement they did. He was now more Hollow than Shiro had ever been.

He would be finding his own place soon, he couldn't keep leeching off the Ishida's, even if they didn't mind and had a spare room. Ichigo knew that Chad had offered to help him find a decent apartment nearby so that he could still spend time with the twins. They were little beams of sunlight that pierced the darkness of his self inflicted depression.

Hugging his jacket a little closer, Ichigo took in the smells and sights of the carnival. Greasy food, sugary drinks, the subtle hint of body odour from the overworked staff, the sweet scent of candyfloss, the still slightly hard soil beneath his feet that hadn't quite softened after the morning frosts had passed.

Karakura town. His home. His prison.

He hadn't heard of any Shinigami visiting the area, he was sure Ishida would have mentioned it. No, they were all staying away and he didn't know why. He couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of anger. He'd sacrificed his life as a Shinigami to protect them, to pick up the pieces of a battle they'd been too weak to finish. He'd suffered for them. He'd almost died for them. And they couldn't even bare to thank him.

Groaning under his breath, Ichigo scowled at his feet. Regret filling him at the dark thoughts. The hate.

He was sure it wasn't their fault. There would have been a huge amount of work to take care of, repairs and official documentation. Aizen's trial. An account of those killed by Izanshi. An account of those killed in the battle. He didn't know who had survived and who had died. He couldn't bring himself to visit Urahara's shop. He couldn't bare to see the man.

He knew that Urahara utilised a Gigai almost permanently in the World of the Living, but the idea of going to that store... Of opening those doors and stepping inside. The smell of tatami flooring, the sight of shōji walls. Too many memories.

The fear... The overwhelming fear of stepping over the threshold and sitting at the table, not even knowing if a Shinigami was sat beside him, invisible to his eyes. It was too much. He couldn't do it. Not yet.

On the plus side, he'd been able to reconnect with some of his other childhood friends. Keigo, Mizuiro and Tatsuki. Ishida and Orihime had sat them down in their home, and told them everything. Apparently all three of them had enough reiatsu that they'd sensed the huge battle with Aizen, although at the time they hadn't understood.

When he'd entered the room, proving that the Ishida family weren't insane, proving he was alive... Tatsuki had punched him in the face, breaking his nose. He could understand her anger. Since then he'd met up with Keigo at least twice, the man had offered him a job in his nightclub whenever he was up to it. It made sense to accept the offer... He would need money, Human money if he was going to pay the rent for his apartment when he got it.

Human stuff... A job, a home, friends. It didn't sound so different to Soul Society initially. But then his job would no longer entail helping to run a Division, it would no longer involve killing Hollows or training to win a war. He would be forced to succumb to the monotony of day to day life. He... A warrior and a soldier... Would have to adjust to being a normal Human man.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't frightened of it.

He'd been strong, he'd been fast and he'd been able to protect the people he loved. But he'd surrendered it all to finish the fight. It was worth it, knowing that Karakura town and Seireitei was safe because of him. But it was a bitter and empty victory.

Was it selfish... To have regrets about saving them? Was it selfish to wish there had been another way?

Maybe it wasn't over. Maybe the Goeti Thirteen hadn't forgotten him. Maybe... Maybe they were biding their time, trying to find a way to help him. To bring him back! But then... Would they really risk it? They'd accepted his help because he stood the greatest chance of beating Aizen, there had never been a confirmed forgiveness about his original treachery. Maybe... Maybe they had decided that this would be his punishment. His atonement. To live as a Human. Maybe they had given up on him.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Ichigo forced a smile onto his face as Kaida ran towards him, he crouched down and hugged her tightly as she showed him the stuffed bear her father had won her. Her fingers were tight in the short tufts of orange hair atop his head and he knew without a doubt that he would sacrifice everything all over again if it meant she could live.

She was worth it. Her brother was worth it.

Time would tell if Soul Society had abandoned him. Time would tell if Byakuya had left him. While he waited he could at least try to live a life. Maybe he could even try to live the life he'd lost as a result of Aizen. It was worth a try. It was worth the time.

Smiling as she ran back to her parents, he straightened up slowly, he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets, watching as the Ishida's disappeared out of sight, moving deeper into the heart of the carnival no doubt. Feeling a frigid blast of air rush around him before the slowly warming sun beat down on him again, the light was blinding and he was almost immediately reminded of his battle with Aizen.

_He felt the burn of the Kidō surround his body. He was certain that for a moment he had blinded himself permanently. The horizontal arc of yellow that he released mingled with the power of the lightning in his right hand, exploding between their bodies with an intensity he'd never felt from Kidō before._

_The detonation was calamitous. Ichigo felt like his body was being torn apart. He could feel the heat of blood washing over him and he wasn't sure if it was his own or Aizen's. Or a mixture of both. He heard the brunet release a cry of pain, but his own seemed to drown it out as he hit the floor. He skidded, the grit and rocks cutting into his skin as he came to a stop face down in the dirt._

Flinching, the strawberry swallowed back the choke-hold of emotion he felt clawing at him. It had been a battle like no other he'd ever experienced. A literal crawl for survival. Not his own, but his friend's. The pain, the blood, the fear. He remembered it all. It made his fingers twitch in the urge to reach for Zangetsu's hilt. His eyes dropped at the foolish memory. Zangetsu was gone. Shiro was gone.

His mind was silent.

_Tensa seemed to press into his touch, teeth clenched as if experiencing physical pain as a broken sob escaped his lips, his fingers slowly loosened on the white hilt of the blade, hands falling to his sides as his body arched forwards. Ichigo could barely stand to see him so broken, so hurt. But he didn't understand._

_Their eyes met for a long moment, Tensa's voice cracking with emotion, “The Final Getsuga Tenshou... This blade will teach you the meaning soon enough. Together with the essentials of the technique. Ichigo... If you use this technique you will...”_

Letting out a long breath, he pulled his hand from his pocket and stared at his palm. He could almost remember the feeling of Tensa's cheek against his skin. Damp from tears and sweat, but soft beneath the pads of his fingers.

It was only because he had accepted Tensa's blade that he had achieved the Final Getsuga Tenshou. It was only because of Tensa and Shiro that he had defeated Aizen. He owed them everything, absolutely everything! But he couldn't thank them. He couldn't see them. His mind was devoid of any voice other than his own.

He was alone.

“ _Your sword... It is practically screaming for someone to hear it. For someone to care. For someone to understand. Our Zanpakutō are reflections of ourselves... Of our very Souls.” His head tilted to one side, gaze entirely focused on Kyoka Suigetsu's blade, “I understand now. Why you said you'd build me somewhere that I could be myself. You weren't just making that promise to me, you were making it to yourself as well. Your sword is lonely. You are lonely.”_

Gritting his teeth, Ichigo's fingers clenched into a tight fist. What kind of sick trick was it... For him to realise the truth behind all of Aizen's motivation only to yield to the same thing himself. He was desperately lonely. So lonely it felt like he was drowning. Kaida and Hotaru only dulled the sensation, they could never cure it.

For years he had supplemented his feelings with fighting and killing and... Sex. He'd been addicted to the feelings roused by the activity. Those few fleeting seconds of adrenaline and emotion in the wake of a powerful, leg quaking orgasm.

First, his fellow students in Shino... Any of them who looked at him like they were interested. He'd used them, fucked them and then thrown them out.

Second, Aizen... He had experienced incredibly and breathtaking sex with that man with the added benefit of being able to kill for him. Even though his skin still crawled with the memory of that man touching him, he had never once denied that the sex had been amazing.

Last came Byakuya. The man who'd woken his heart and saved him from himself. He remembered the weeks of frustration, wanting to have him... Wanting to feel his touch... Resisting because of the modified Gikon, only to finally come together. It had been mind blowing, it had been pure. It had been everything he'd never had. Tender, gentle, deep, passionate. Loving.

Fighting... Killing... Sex... They'd kept him sane in the past. But now he was cut off from all three of those crutches. He had kept all of his physical strength and talents, but if he got into fights he would be setting a bad example for the twins. Killing was out of the question, he wasn't an emotionless machine anymore. Sex... He craved it like a drug, his body aching without that stimulation and passion but he couldn't... He couldn't...

He couldn't betray Byakuya like that. There was still a chance they could... He didn't know how but there was still a chance! Surely... There had to be...

Byakuya would be getting the Kuchiki Clan in order after discovering Norio's murder. He'd be completely bogged down with official business, documentation, accounting for a new Head Elder... He'd be so busy and who knew how long it could take to get it all sorted. But then afterwards... Maybe when everything done and sorted and finished... Maybe he'd visit Karakura town.

Somehow they could make it work! Somehow... They'd gotten through more difficult situations. They'd gotten through so much together. Surely something like distance wouldn't break them.

In the meantime, Ichigo had no choice but to simply carry on. Do his best. Keep his cool. Survive. His loneliness, his sadness... He could cope with it. He could. He was sure of it. He just had to fill his time with everything and anything that could be a distraction.

Working for Keigo. Attending Tatsuki's dōjō. Babysitting for Ishida and Orihime. Maybe he could get Chad to teach him how to play the guitar. He had options. He just had to sit tight and wait. He could do that. He'd done it before. He could survive this. He had to.

Pushing away from the apple candy stand, he finally allowed himself the chance to explore the area. He wasn't truly in the right frame of mind to take interest, but he allowed his eyes to casually glance over the various brightly coloured stalls and plush toys that acted as rewards for various games.

There were several Kingyo Sukui, with both kids and adults clustered around the pools of water scooping little colourful goldfish with vigour and zeal. He could see Hotaru standing with Orihime as she tried to capture him an elegant looking goldfish in shades of white and crimson. She wasn't doing very well, but the amount of effort she was giving it made him smile.

There were super ball Sukui games too, thousands of little coloured balls floating on the surface of the water, there were easily a dozen children gathered around frantically trying to collect the balls, probably without even realising that they were heavier than the fish. The sound of peeling laughter and excited squeals made him shake his head as he carried on by.

He made a point of stopping by the Ningyo Sukui, managing to fish out a little rubber toy for Kaida and Hotaru. One was a little green turtle, the other was a bright yellow bird. He knew they would appreciate it, even if they were only small trinkets.

There was a ring tossing stall, he saw several adults standing around examining it, apparently gauging whether or not to give it a bash. He watched with meagre interest as most of those present failed to even get a single hoop around a prize. He was sure he could succeed if he wanted to but... Nothing took his interest from the prizes and he carried on walking.

Ichigo came to a stop as he found a wall of ornamental looking masks, they were elaborate and brightly coloured, different faces, different characters, different depictions on every single one. There was no mask the same.

He felt his blood run cold as he found himself looking at a gorgeous samurai mask, it was blood red with elaborate gold filament coiling across the cheeks and forehead like a delicate wave of petals, the mouth was open wide to reveal golden fangs. It was beautiful, it was ornate and seemed like a well made piece of art.

He wasn't sure why it had made him feel so cold, but something... Something vague and silent seemed so familiar about it that his Soul began to ache. It ached so much that he almost couldn't draw breath.

“ _But you've seen Zangetsu... And Shiro! You said it is rare for other people to be able to see each other's Zanpakutō spirits, yet you've somehow seen both of mine.” Ichigo pouted, folding his arms as he leaned against the bookshelf in Byakuya's mansion study, “Is it so strange that I would be curious about what Senbonzakura looks like?”_

“ _It's not strange but... It's hard for me to explain.” The nobleman muttered in response, snapping his book shut as he stared across at the strawberry, “It would be like trying to describe a piece of my very being.”_

“ _If you don't at least try I'm going to spend the rest of my life thinking your Zanpakutō is a talking tree.” He said, only half serious._

_Byakuya broke out into a laugh, it was wholesome and full and the nobleman had to cover his mouth with his hand to silence it, “A talking tree? Truly?”_

“ _Please... At least try?”_

“ _Very well...” A roll of the eyes came before the Kuchiki heir rose to his feet and ensnared Ichigo in his arms, “His personality is very... Different to mine in some respects. He talks a lot, and often speaks freely of his emotions. While he appears very calm and collected among others, in reality he can be annoyingly childish and hypocritical. He rarely accepts blame for anything that is actually his fault. And he is easily angered by the mistakes of others...”_

“ _I'm sorry, you said your personalities were different?” Ichigo teased._

_The nobleman glared playfully, “Well... Ugh, I suppose the truth is that Senbonzakura's temperament actually mirrors my own from my youth. I have noted before that my temper was explosive, and I... Could be somewhat childish when annoyed. But... I wouldn't have him any other way. He's loyal, respectful and diligent. He's proven himself many times and... I would be lost without him.”_

_The strawberry smiled faintly, “He sounds perfectly suitable for the Head of the Kuchiki Clan.”_

“ _Yes... In more ways than one. Do you know, ever since my father's death he has worn a mask.” He sighed softly, “I wonder if it is a mark of respect, or simply a reflection that I too donned a mask after his passing, to protect myself. That almost unbreakable mask... It would easily be befitting for a samurai.”_

Ichigo's shoulders slumped suddenly and he sucked in a shaky breath. He reached out and plucked the mask from the wall, holding it a little closer to inspect every lingering detail. It seemed strange that such a simple thing would rouse such a strong memory. But everything was still raw. Maybe it made sense.

Whether it was sentimentality or not, Ichigo bought the mask, stowing it within his coat to display when he got his own place. It would be a nice reminder. A little lingering memory. Maybe it was stupid but he didn't care. If he was ever going to move on, if he was ever going to survive he had to make sure the memories he had stopped hurting.

As he turned away from the wall of masks, a body crashed into his own and knocked him flying. He growled out as he hit the hard floor, glaring up at whoever was responsible. It was a man, easily a head taller than he was with a long sweep of shoulder length black hair that was pulled up into a tail, he had a startling shade of jade green eyes. He seemed muscled, toned, but lean.

“Shit, I'm sorry!” The man said, instantly leaning down and holding a hand out to help Ichigo back to his feet.

“Yeah... Well... You have eyes for a reason.” He muttered sharply, but accepted his hand and allowed himself to be hauled back to his feet.

“Sorry... I'm really sorry. Are you okay? You're not hurt right?” Green eyes were scanning left, right and centre for injuries.

“No... I'm fine.” Ichigo huffed and sucked in a breath, “What about you?”

“Me?” A startled blink, “I'm fine! But... Thanks for asking.”

“No problem.” He brushed his jeans down, removing several small crumbs of dried dirt, by the time he'd looked back up the man was gone and Ichigo was left looking around in confusion, “Damn he moves fast... Didn't even get his name. Asshole.”

He tutted and made sure the mask he'd bought was intact before striding off to find the Ishida family. It was growing late and undoubtedly the family unit would be returning home before long for food, the twins had school in the morning so they'd be requiring sleep as well.

Greeted with a hug from both children, he flourished the small toys he'd won them, happy when he saw their faces light up with glee. As he'd expected, Kaida took the yellow bird while her brother favoured the green turtle. They thanked him eagerly without prompting from their parents and stowed the trinkets in their pockets.

“Are you ready to leave, Kurosaki?” Ishida asked.

“Yeah, I'm good.” He replied with a half shrug, “Did you two have fun?”

“Yes Ichi-ji!” Kaida beamed up at him.

“It was so cool.” Hotaru agreed.

“Good.” He smiled.

He spoke little on the way back to the house, instead enjoying listening as the twins regaled him with stories about the games they'd played and the sweet treats they'd been allowed to eat. Once or twice he caught Orihime watching him, her expression somewhere between serene and sad and he could only imagine she was wondering how he was coping. She'd tried asking, he always cut her off and changed the subject. It was one thing to be stuck in his own head, thinking about what he'd lost... Talking to another person about it was never going to happen. Not a chance. He wouldn't... He... He couldn't do it. Not yet.

He had to power through, in his own way... Or he'd go mad.


	84. After Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time ticks by in the World of the Living, but it seems to go all the slower for Ichigo.

Karakura was peaceful, content and brimming with life. Winter had drizzled away to reveal the first buds of Spring, the chill in the air balanced by the teasing warmth of the watery sunlight. Bare trees were beginning to summon hues of green canopy, while fresh flowers prepared to burst free from the soil and the tiny chirps of fledgling birds crept down from the various nests stowed away in the nooks of roofs and treetops.

Ichigo let out a long breath, leaning against the wall surrounding Mashiba Middle School. It was the last Friday of the month, and as per the ritual he had begun not long after losing his Shinigami powers, he was waiting to pick Kaida and Hotaru up from school.

It was a habit more than anything else, his survival plan had revolved heavily around spending time with the twins, and as a show of gratitude for the Ishida's allowing him their spare room, he'd started taking the twins to school every Friday, and picking them up again. He'd quickly learned to appreciate their bubbling energy as the perfect distraction for the loss still lingering in his heart. Their favourite activity after school was to sneak off to their favourite ice cream parlour before heading home.

Even though Chad had helped him find his own apartment, he continued the routine. Even when Keigo had given him the job at his nightclub, he had made sure his Friday shifts started late enough that he could enjoy his time with the twins.

Six months... Six long months, had passed since the end of the Winter War. He still hadn't seen anyone from Soul Society. While he was sure they could have slipped into Gigai to visit him, he wondered if they thought it would be too painful for him to see them. He was angry at the lack of contact, but deep down he knew that he wouldn't cope with seeing them come and go without him.

But his heart still ached for raven hair and steel eyes. Sometimes he woke in the middle of the night, momentarily forgetting his circumstances. He'd roll over and reach out, finding an empty bed. Ishida had tried to prescribe him sleeping tablets to help. He'd refused them. He never wanted to medicate himself to control his feelings again, doing that to escape Aizen's suspicions had been bad enough. He didn't want to risk forgetting. The pain was worth it.

His ears pricked up as he heard the school bell, and glanced around the front gate. Most of the parents were waiting inside the walls, but he didn't like mingling with them. It raised too many questions to explain who he was to faces that were familiar, after all, so many of his former classmates were now parents. Explaining to Keigo, Mizuiro and Tatsuki had been complicated enough.

He shuddered again as he remembered the rage induced punch Tatsuki had landed on him, his nose still ached in the cold. Ichigo sucked in a breath and smiled as he saw two bundles of excited joy rushing towards him.

“Ichi-ji!” Came unified shouts as arms wrapped around his waist.

In a few short months, Kaida had shot up in height now easily matching her brother. He could no longer pick her up with any ease, but he still enjoyed their hugs.

“Hey there you two.” He ruffled their hair, holding out his hands for them, “How was school today?”

“Alright.” The young boy smiled, “We got to go to the park today, I found a frog!”

“Wow, a frog?!” Ichigo gasped, “That sounds like great fun! What about you Kaida?”

“It was okay.” She said quietly as she rested her head on his arm, “Are we going to get ice cream?”

Frowning faintly at her reluctance to say more about her day, he held her a little closer, “Of course we are! What flavour are you going to have today?”

“Chocolate!” Said Hotaru.

“Cherry!” Said Kaida, “What about you, Ichi-ji?!”

Ichigo chuckled softly and nodded, “Sounds like good choices to me! I think I'll have... Mm, caramel.”

“Ichi-ji, will you tell us a story about Soul Society again while we eat?” The girl asked.

“Of course I will, if you want to hear one.” He smiled, “What sort of story do you want to hear? Something... Spooky? Dramatic? Comedic?”

“Mm...” The girl put her finger to her lips and made a point of thinking it over, “I want to hear something romantic! Like how mum and dad got together! Do you have any stories like that?”

“Heh, well as it happens I can think of one or two good romances I can share.” He grinned and laughed as he saw Hotaru roll his eyes, “And then maybe if we have time I can tell you about a super action packed fight as well.”

The three of them headed through the streets at a leisurely pace, arriving at the parlour only a few minutes later. Ichigo ushered the two kids to their normal table while he ordered their ice creams. When he slid into the booth beside Kaida, he stretched his arms above his head and looked down at her. She was still being a lot quieter than normal.

“Hotaru, can you go and get some napkins for us please?” He asked, smiling.

“Huh? Sure.” He shrugged, shuffling off.

Ichigo turned slightly in his seat, resting his cheek on his palm, “Kaida... What's going on? You're not yourself.”

She glanced up at him and then looked down, clasping her hands together in her lap, “It's... It's nothing really...”

“If it's enough to bother you then it's something. You can tell me. Maybe I can help.” He rested an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

Kaida sucked in a deep breath and huffed it out all in one go, “Mum said when she was little some girls in her class didn't like her hair... And she said that... You had the same problem. How did you... What did you do about it?”

The strawberry raised an eyebrow and momentarily glanced upwards towards his own spiky hair, he clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Your mum was timid, she didn't fight back when kids bullied her because of her hair. I was the opposite. If someone didn't like how I looked and wanted to cause trouble because of it... I beat them up. You need to find something between those extremes. I don't want to hear that you've hit some kid, but I don't want to hear that you've let them hurt you. It's important to be bold, and to believe in yourself! There's nothing wrong with your hair, nothing wrong with your mum's hair and there's nothing wrong with mine.”

She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes, biting her bottom lip nervously, “I... I guess that's true. I wish I was as confident as you, Ichi-ji... You're so... Sure about everything...”

“Honestly, it's not about being confident. It's about realising that it doesn't matter what anyone else says. You are you. And you are perfect in yourself. If someone has the time to spare to bad mouth you then it just means they lack confidence too, and they make themselves feel better by making you feel worse.” He murmured, “You just have to learn to accept that people can be mean, people can be cruel. But it only matters if you let it.”

The girl lowered her eyes back to her lap as her brother returned, seemingly deep in thought over his words. She cheered up as their ice creams were delivered to the table and immediately tucked in.

“So you wanted a romance story huh?” He mused, twirling his spoon between his fingers, “Well, when I was a kid, I met this boy and this girl. Renji, and Rukia. They lived in Rukongai like me. We became friends and eventually went to Shino Academy together to become Shinigami. Renji was completely in love with Rukia, but he was too shy to ever act on it. Anyway, one day...”

* * *

Ichigo covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned, watching as Orihime ushered Kaida and Hotaru into the house. Ishida leaned against the door frame casually, nudging his glasses up his nose before folding his arms.

“How were they?” The Quincy asked.

The strawberry hesitated and stepped closer, rubbing his chin in thought as he spoke in a hushed tone, “Hotaru had a good day, he was fine. Kaida... She was quiet. She was asking about how to deal with kids who don't like the colour of her hair. I think it's safe to assume something's been said in passing at least.”

“I see.” Ishida sighed, “We were worried it would happen, kids never change. What did you say to her?”

“The truth. I told her to be bold and believe in herself, and to understand that kids who pick on her for her hair lack confidence in some aspect of themselves. I said it would only bother her if she let it. She didn't say much afterwards but... She seemed happier.” He shrugged.

The dark haired male looked at his friend for a long moment before speaking, “Thank you for being there for her, Kurosaki.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way, you know that.” He wafted his gratitude aside with a lazy wave of his hand, “Besides, Hotaru will look out for her. He's a bright kid. They both are.”

“As regretful as I am to have to admit it...” Ishida sniffed indignantly as he began to head back inside his home, “You have been a positive influence on my children. Goodnight, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo smirked widely at his words, “Don't choke too hard on your words.”

The strawberry left when the door clicked shut, taking the time to check his watch. He had a good half an hour before his shift started at the club, just enough time to get changed and make his way there if he put his mind to it.

His apartment wasn't too far from the Ishida residence, and he soon found himself trudging up to the third floor. With his keys in his hand, Ichigo felt a small tingle in the back of his skull like eyes were resting on him from afar. He turned, glancing out over the balcony, there was no one there. No one visible anyway.

“What are you even looking for, idiot.” He muttered as he let himself into his flat, “You can't see anything.”

The feelings of being followed, being watched, the tickling sensations in his skull and spine had been intermittent ever since the carnival. He'd given them little thought, assuming that they were little more than the dwindling remnants of his instincts, perhaps his body's way of telling him that a Hollow was near. Useless.

He slammed the door a little harder than necessary and stalked moodily into the bedroom to get changed. As he pulled on his black jeans and buttoned up his black shirt, he took a moment to glance in the mirror and checked himself over.

Ichigo had retained all of his muscle from years of training as a Shinigami, but he had shrunk back to his normal height after losing his Shinigami powers. Mugetsu had given him a few extra inches ahead of time. His hair was shorter even than it had been while in Division Five, closer resembling what it had been like during his Academy days. He was in half a mind to let it grow a little longer again, but he felt like it would bring back too many memories at the same time.

He bore three marks on his body, three marks that truly branded him with his time as a Shinigami. The scar on his chest from Gin's sword on Sôkyoku. The puckered skin on his shoulder from Ulquiorra's teeth. And the crimped skin across his throat from Ulquiorra's blade. Out of all of them, the one on his throat bothered him the most, as it had always done. It probably wasn't noticeable to people who didn't already know it was there, but for him it shone like a beacon. But it no longer burned with heat when he remembered his assault, ever since he had banished Ulquiorra's lingering reiatsu from his body it had become a normal scar.

Finally, the scowl line between his eyebrows was even more pronounced than it had been before, he spent all his time frowning unless he was with Kaida and Hotaru.

“Tch.” He pulled his shoes back on and grabbed his satchel from the back of the door, fingers snagging a lightweight jacket as he passed too.

As he jogged to work, his mind began to wander. He found himself thinking about the last six months, how different his life had become.

In Soul Society, every day had been a new challenge. With new duties and the constant threat of Hollows needing to be put down. One thing was for sure, his life had never exactly been boring. If he hadn't been spying for Aizen, he'd been trying to trap Byakuya, and then he'd been spying for Byakuya and trying to trap Aizen. Never a dull moment where espionage and assassination was involved.

Life in Karakura was a polar opposite. It was mundane. Simple. Wake up, eat, read a book, eat, watch TV, eat, go to work, go to bed. Things were dull. Slower paced than he liked. He was never sure quite what to do with his time. He'd taken up numerous hobbies in an effort to entertain himself. Cooking, learning new languages, drawing, yoga, he had joined Orihime in tending to the memorial garden, he'd even taken a few shifts at her bakery but he wasn't really cut out for cake making. Nothing really filled the gap. It was just killing time. Keeping his mind away from what he was missing.

One thing that did help was meeting up with Tatsuki every Sunday at the dōjō she tutored at for karate practice. It kept him in shape and it was good to be able to flex his muscles in a workout with someone who knew what they were doing.

Ichigo shook his head to clear his thoughts as the club came into view. The last thing he needed was to be overly distracted while making all manner of drinks and dealing with rowdy idiots. He waved to the bouncer on duty and headed inside, throwing his bag and jacket into the staff room before hastily heading towards the bar.

Despite the early hour, the club was already buzzing. Friday nights were always the same. The thrum of the music ran through his body like a drum, the strobe lighting flickered and swivelled, pulsing in all contortions of colours. There were already over two dozen bodies packed onto the dance floor, with many more gently nodding their heads to the undertones of heavy metal while ordering drinks at the bar.

“Ichigo!” Keigo's voice reached his ears over the pounding bass, “You're late!”

“I know, I know.” He muttered, taking his place behind the bar.

He started serving the waiting customers, taking money and handing back the change, mixing or pouring the drinks and delivering them into greedy and eager hands. It was methodic, easy, a bit like breathing.

He was sure some things would never change, like the fact he trained for everything like it was a battle. Learning to mix cocktails had been like learning the correct stances for hand-to-hand combat. Remembering the names and prices of all the drinks had been like remembering all the names, numbers and incantations for Kidō. Ichigo wondered if his battle instincts would ever fade away.

It was easy to lose track of how many people he served, none of them were anything special that he would remember, and none of them were interested in bar side small talk. Which was fine by him, he was rarely in the mood for small talk.

After a while, the flow of thirsty men and women slowed, allowing Ichigo the chance to grab himself a water and rest against the counter. He found his gaze drawn to the dance floor, it was easy to spot couples dancing together. The way their bodies seemed to mingle together, fitting like jigsaw pieces, moving as one in perfect understanding.

It made him cast his mind back to his engagement party in Rukongai. Byakuya had taken his breath away, like always, dancing together in front of everyone without a care in the world. He missed the feeling of being held like that. The feeling of firm, possessive hands on his waist and eyes that never left his face. He missed being treated like the most important person in the room by the only person that mattered.

“Ichigo! We've got an emergency!” Keigo's shout roused him immediately from his thoughts.

“What is it?” He grumbled, standing straight as he finished his water.

His old friend was clearly freaking out, eyes wide and posture awkward, “We've got a super important guest in the private rooms tonight, they're spending serious money and are going to do us the world of good with our popularity in town. But the barman who was looking after them has had to go home sick! I hate to ask but... Can you head through and take over?”

Ichigo blinked, “You want me to deal with a V.I.P?” After all, it wasn't his people skills that kept him in a job.

“If I had another option I'd take it. But you're the best I've got. Just... Be polite, don't accidentally over charge them, do whatever you have to do to keep the drinks flowing and the money coming. And try not to scowl!”

“Ugh...” The strawberry groaned and reluctantly nodded, “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll add a little extra to your pay packet this month!” Keigo seemed to relax and wandered off.

Staring momentarily at the brunet's back, Ichigo let out a long sigh and squeezed through the throngs of dancing youths, slipping into the V.I.P rooms at the back of the club.

The rooms were darkly lit compared to the front of house, with pale yellow lights casting shadows on the corners of the room, there was a single long bar at one end while the rest of the space was occupied by sleek leather couches and chairs.

Keeping his head down as he slipped behind the bar and checked the orders left by his predecessor, Ichigo began making the drinks that had been missed, silently assessing the people scattered in the chairs. He froze as he took in the appearance of the people in front of him, mouth falling open as the mixer he'd been using fell from his fingers and clattered to the floor noisily. He was sure his heart was going to burst clean out of his chest, it had begun to pound so harshly against his breastbone.

Bright bubblegum pink hair and whiskey coloured eyes were framed by slender silver frames. Electric blue hair and matching eyes with feline green markings under them inspected him with a wide toothy smirk. Long sea green hair curled free from beneath a cute white beanie while gentle hazel eyes twinkled with amusement. Spiky blond hair ran freely for once, aqua eyes scanning the room curiously. Wavy brown hair was swept back while solemn grey eyes inspected the glass of bourbon in front of them.

Ichigo's mouth ran dry as he looked at them each in turn, making some choked spluttering noise as he found his voice, “Szayel? Grimmjow? W-What are you all doing here? Nelliel... Harribel... Starrk? I... What's...”

“No need to blow a blood vessel, kid.” Grimmjow chuckled throatily, “We thought we'd drop in and say hi.”

“It's good to see you, Ichigo!” Nelliel beamed at him.

“Do I need to run some medical checks on you, you look ready to pass out?” Szayel smirked.

“Give him time to process everything, idiot.” Harribel muttered.

Starrk stood up slowly and approached the bar, leaning against it casually, “You doing okay, Cero?”

Ichigo's chest tightened at the sound of his former title, his heart aching to hear it, he found himself staring up at him like he thought he'd vanish, “I need a drink.”

“Well, you're in the right place.” The Primera chuckled, “Come and sit down, I already cleared it with your boss.”

“You spoke to Keigo?” He asked, allowing himself to be guided into a seat.

“Is that so surprising?”

“Kind of.” He muttered, looking around at them all, “You guys... You look really well.”

“Thank you.” Someone replied.

Ichigo was then struck with the realisation that they all looked Human, they were all in Gigai. He could see Harribel's mouth and Grimmjow's jaw. It tickled him with a peculiar sensation, and at the same time it made him ache.

“I... I haven't heard anything...” He began, biting his lip, “I thought everyone was... Staying away for my benefit or something...”

“Not exactly.” Grimmjow snorted, “Things ain't been easy over there since Aizen's arrest and sentencin'. There was a lot of mess to clean up. Kyōraku kinda... Told everyone they weren't allowed to come and see ya until everythin' was sorted.”

“It's not because he doesn't appreciate what you did.” Szayel added quickly, “It's simply a matter of... Priorities.”

Rubbing his forehead, Ichigo let out a huff, “I can understand it. I guess... There's a lot of stuff that needs sorting...”

“Have you been doing alright, Ichigo?” Nelliel asked sweetly, tilting her head in concern for him.

“I'm... Surviving.” Ichigo replied with a shrug, trying to return a smile to her but failing miserably, “Adapting has been... Hard.”

“For us too.” Starrk moaned.

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“We're all living in Soul Society.” Harribel ran a hand through her hair, “Byakuya-san... He... Allowed us to move into the Shiba Estate so that we could stay. Hueco Mundo didn't feel like home anymore...”

He felt his stomach knot at the mention of his lover and he winced, jaw setting tightly, “That's good... I'm glad... He did that. How... How is he?”

“Stubbornly refusin' to admit anythin' is wrong.” Grimmjow tutted.

“Byakuya-san is doing fine,” the Tres Espada glared at the Sexta, “However, according to Renji he has reverted a little bit. He's acting more like his old self. Dedicated to his work, stubbornly sticking to the rules. Although he's missed one or two meetings of late.”

“Sounds about right.” Ichigo almost smiled, but it died before reaching his eyes, “Thank you for coming and... Telling me.”

The Primera began awkwardly, “That's not technically the reasons for us being here... You see...”

“We ain't meant to be.” The Sexta interjected, “Technically... We're still under orders not to visit you...”

“But we had to.” Nelliel balled a fist, though it simply looked cute in her current outfit.

“Why? What's going on? Aizen didn't escape did he?” The strawberry frowned.

“Nothing like that.” Harribel said swiftly, “However... One of the reasons your friends were forbidden to visit was because that shape changing Hollow is still on the loose.”

“Izanshi?” Ichigo raised an eyebrow, “I thought someone would have caught him by now... He's dangerous to leave alive. I wish I'd been able to kill him myself but...”

“Don't beat yourself up, you had a lot to do that day.” Starrk patted his shoulder, “Anyway... We're here because... We had to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“We think, or rather we know, Izanshi came to the World of the Living about a week ago, or at least one of his bodies did, we have no idea how many of his clones are still in circulation, although we have managed to hunt down a good number of them. Despite the Shinigami trying to contain him he managed to slip away. It's not hard to suspect that he might come after you, I mean you foiled Aizen's plans.” The brown haired Arrancar continued.

“Shit... I'll have to let Ishida know. He'll probably want to monitor any unusual Hollow activity in the... Oh... He might have a fit when he senses you all.” He trailed off.

“No need for concern,” Szayel nudged his glasses up his nose, “We visited the hospital earlier today to explain our presence.”

“He never said...” He grumbled.

“We asked him not to. We thought it would be a nice surprise!” Nelliel beamed.

“I bet he had a fit when he saw you all.” Ichigo found himself giggling in spite of himself when a glass of whiskey was thrust into his hand.

“Something like that.” Grimmjow grinned.

“We miss you, Cero.” Starrk said after a moment, “For no matter how short a length of time it was, you were our leader. Our real leader. You freed us from Aizen. Freed us from his spell.”

“I miss you all too.” He said quietly, pulling at the arm of the chair restlessly, “I miss everyone. I miss that life... That job... My duty... But this is what I've got so... I just have to deal with it.”

“Don't give up hope.” Harribel sat forwards, resting a hand on his knee, “Don't stop believing in who you are.”

“As if I could do that.” The strawberry offered an awkward expression somewhere between a smile and a frown, “It's really good to see you all... I'm so glad you're alright. I'm sorry about Nnoitra...”

“We laid him to rest after the battle. Hopefully his soul has been taken into the cycle of rebirth... Perhaps we will even see him again one day.” Nelliel brushed his cheek tenderly with her fingers.

Their attention was drawn by the sudden bleeping of a denreishinki coming from Starrk's back pocket and the Primera swore, “Time's up I'm afraid. That's Urahara warning us that we've got to get back.”

Ichigo swallowed and got to his feet as the Espada did, “It was great to see you all.” He said with a weak half smile.

There were murmured goodbyes and a hug from Nelliel as the room emptied. Starrk shoved a bundle of money into Ichigo's hand, to apparently cover the use of the room and drinks. When the door swung shut behind them, the strawberry sank back down into his chair and stared blankly at the floor. The little warmth he had felt from their surprise presence had chilled to ice and he suddenly felt incredibly empty.

“Ichigo?”

He looked around as he heard Keigo's voice and he let out a huff, getting to his feet sharply, “I'm going home.” He muttered shortly, shoving the money into his friend's grasp.

Ichigo snatched his bag and jacket from the staff room and fled the club without a backwards glance. It was too noisy. Too compressed with people. He didn't want to pretend to be okay. He didn't want to listen to the life stories of people who had no idea what it was like to lose everything they cared about.

He slowed his pace just a little as he passed the memorial garden dedicated to his family, his eyes instinctively searching for the single orange flower he had created with Shiro's help. It was the final straw to see it wilted, dying and turning a dull shade of brown.


	85. Relentless Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressure of seeing the Espada, and the pain of watching them leave, results in a restless wave of distress for Ichigo. But an unlikely friend helps soothe at least some of the struggle.

Ichigo was perched a little precariously on the rooftop of his apartment block. It was a feat that as a Shinigami, would have been no cause for concern. A fall wouldn't kill him. As a Human however it gave him a little surge of adrenaline in knowing he was potentially in danger.

Arms folded around his legs as he glared over the town, he released a sharp puff. He'd been doing alright. He'd been coping. At the very least he'd been able to manage the feelings that came from being severed from the friends and family he had in Soul Society, by thrusting himself back into the lives of the friends he'd had as a child. But now everything had burst free. Seeing the Espada, seeing them alive and well and healthy and free... Because of his actions. He was happy for them, so happy. But he envied them. Almost to the point of loathing.

They were free to wander and live where he should have been. They were able to mingle with the Shinigami. They were able to find new meaning in their whole new existence. And he was trapped in the past. Everything he had been doing was about damage limitation. It had been about ignoring the intense, burning feeling of loss brewing in his heart.

He missed Byakuya. He missed Rukia, and Renji. He missed Hisagi, Kira, Matsumoto and Hinamori. He missed the excitement of Seireitei. He missed the routine of being a Fukutaichou. He'd never considered himself to be selfish, but he missed being important. So many people had relied on him, they had needed him, wanted him, they'd been desperate for him to defeat Aizen because he was the only one capable of doing it. And now... No one needed him. Not really.

It was torture, every second he spent alone. His mind was so quiet, so silent, so empty. He'd grown fond of Shiro's presence, of his insanity. He had grown to appreciate Zangetsu's calming balm and wisdom. He missed the noise. The bustle. The weight of multiple entities in his head. It was too quiet. Too still. He didn't like being the only one rattling around up there. It was lonely. He was lonely.

There was a sick, tiny part of him lingering in the very back of his mind that acknowledged, reluctantly, that if he had stuck with Aizen he wouldn't be in this situation. He'd be a God by now. Ruling over one of the three worlds as intended.

“But you'd still be an emotionless zombie, you'd have killed all your friends, and you'd still be Aizen's pet.” He muttered aloud, plopping his head into one of his hands as he stared morosely over the rooftops, “Would you really have preferred that to this?”

“Do you normally sit around talkin' to yourself, kid?”

Ichigo twisted sharply, eyes wide as he stared upwards and caught a flash of electric blue, “Grimmjow?!”

“Yo.” The Sexta said, sitting down next to him with a groan.

“I... Thought you'd left with the others.” He muttered.

“I was meant to,” the other shrugged, “But I could see how cut up you were when we had to leave... Wanted to make sure you were doin' alright I guess.”

“Would you be?” Ichigo snapped, he instantly regretted it and groaned, letting his head fall forwards onto his knees, “I'm a jerk.”

“No arguments from me.” Grimmjow snorted, “But no, I wouldn't be. And I haven't been.”

“Huh?”

“I've been where you are, kinda. Told Kuchiki this story before, at least in part...” The Sexta shrugged again, scanning the view, “Going to Soul Society as an additional spy for Aizen was kinda like a last chance for me.”

Ichigo frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I dunno if you've noticed but I'm a bit of a loose cannon.” The blue haired Arrancar smirked slightly, “Anyway, I pushed one too many buttons, disobeyed one too many orders... Got a couple of Fracción killed... Tōsen cut one of my arms off and incinerated it. No comin' back from that. I was thrown outta the Espada.”

“Seriously?” The strawberry found himself looking at Grimmjow's arms, as if trying to see which one wasn't real.

“Mm.” There was a nod and a sigh, “Aizen used his half of the Hōgyoku to restore it on the agreement I go to Soul Society and pretend to be a Shinigami for the remainder of his plan.”

“At least you got back what you were missing.”

“Yeah, after eight months.” Grimmjow glared at him, “You think that makes up for what it felt like to be cast out by everyone I considered family? To go from powerful, to pathetic in the blink of an eye? To spend eight months fending off unwanted attention from the shit bags I'd pissed off?”

Ichigo flinched under the severity of his stare and gulped, “I guess not... You don't just forget the feeling...”

“When you get kicked out of the Espada you become fair game to any Hollows around.” The blue haired male stated with surprising softness, “If you ain't strong enough to fight them off... Then you're in shit street. Havin' one arm to fight 'em off with doesn't exactly give you much of a chance. Even less of a chance if one of 'em is an Espada.”

“You...”

“There was a reason I hated Ulquiorra more than any other Hollow around.” Grimmjow interrupted him, looking him dead in the eye, “He made a very solid point of puttin' me in my place. I'm glad the fucker's a vegetable. I'm just disappointed I didn't get to do it.”

“You mean... He...”

“Yeah.” The blue haired male interrupted again, letting out a breath as he looked across the town, “Twice actually. Apparently once wasn't quite enough humiliation.”

“Grimm...” Ichigo swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult, “How did you cope? Losing your position? Losing... Your dignity?”

“Well, I didn't have a strong ass lunatic lingerin' in my head to fight for my honour.” He chuckled throatily, “I just picked myself up and crawled off into a dark space. I got angry. I got moody. I pretended it hadn't happened. But... Even though we were enemies at the time, when I realised Ulquiorra was goin' after you... I wanted to hide. I didn't want to help you. But at the same time I couldn't just do nothin'. I didn't want you to go through what I did.”

“Thanks.”

“Don't thank me, I didn't get there in time.” He muttered.

“You tried.” Ichigo shrugged, “It must have brought back memories for you... But you still came to try and help. That's enough.”

Grimmjow sighed deeply, looking away, “Whatever. Look I didn't come here to take a trip down memory lane, dunno how this even happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Even thought you're Human now... You're still our Cero, you always will be. I don't wanna hear about you doin' something dumb alright?”

“I'm not going to do anything dumb.” The strawberry offered a small smile, “I thought I was doing better than I am. That's all. I miss everyone. And no matter how much I love my friends here, it isn't the same.”

“I know.”

“Grimmjow..” Ichigo hesitated, “I didn't get a chance to ask earlier at the club... How many... How many people did we lose?”

“From the battle?” He asked, “Nnoitra of course, Soi-Fon's Bankai got him good. Unohana and Hachigen tried to save him but it was too late. And... The big Taichou... Komamura. He was injured worse than first thought, he succumbed to his wounds and passed away not long after you defeated Aizen.”

“I see.” He ran a hand through his hair, “And everyone's coping okay?”

“Eh... Hard to say. People are takin' it all differently. It was worse when they found out about the people Izanshi had killed and taken the forms of. That midget Taichou with the white hair, Hitsugaya... He's not doin' too good. He's barely spoken to anyone since the memorial services. He just works and sleeps.” Grimmjow tapped a finger to his chin in thought, “Komamura's second in command is pretty cut up, but he's doin' alright.”

“And the Espada?”

“We're alright.” He mused, “Nnoitra was a bastard, but I kinda miss his loud mouth. Still, at least my cats are safe.”

“You took them to Soul Society?”

“Of course I did. They've got their own bedroom in your mansion.” He preened, smiling toothily, “And the Shinigami have gotten used to 'em as well so they can wander freely around the Estate.”

“Sounds like a good life.” Ichigo smiled as well.

They fell silent for a while. Both staring at the sky. Ichigo was sure he saw a shooting star but Grimmjow insisted it was a plane. It was only when the strawberry began to yawn that the blue haired Espada got to his feet.

“You need sleep.” He said gruffly, “And I need to get back.”

“I guess so.” He agreed reluctantly as he got to his feet, “I've got work again tomorrow.”

“Come here, I'll give you a hand down safely. Last thing I need is you going ass over tit tryin' to get back to your room.” Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo without giving him time to argue, easily manoeuvring them down onto the balcony of the strawberry's room.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, kid.”

Ichigo opened the sliding doors and hovered in the entrance to his flat, turning slightly, “You... Have feelings for Byakuya, don't you? I could sense it in Las Noches, the way you were with him... And the way you were in the fake Karakura town...”

Grimmjow seemed to tense at the assessment, clicking his tongue against his teeth restlessly, “Yeah... I do. But I ain't in the habit of disrespecting people I like... I won't be makin' any moves on him. You don't need to worry.”

“I'm not worried.” He said quietly, “He shouldn't have to be alone... If it... If it made you both happy... I'd be okay with it.”

“What?” The Sexta seemed genuinely startled, “What are you even... Don't be stupid.”

“Mm.” The strawberry looked into his apartment slowly, “Thanks for coming back to see me. It was good to talk.”

“Don't worry about it.” Grimmjow replied, albeit with an uncertainty to his tone, “Just... Don't give up okay? None of us want to pick up the pieces if Byakuya hears that you've gone and died. It'd break him. And I don't wanna hear anymore of this dumb shit about Byakuya movin' on.”

“I'm not going to do anything dumb, Grimmjow.” He said again.

“Good.”

“Grimmjow?”

“Yeah?” The Espada raised an eyebrow.

“Look after him for me.”

A huff was followed by a sincere sounding “you have my word” as Grimmjow turned and jumped from the balcony, disappearing down the street without a second glance.

Ichigo watched as the Sexta departed. He watched blue hair fade into the lurking shadows of night lingering between the buildings and sighed deeply. He wanted to sink back into feeling miserable, but he couldn't quite manage it. Grimmjow had a unique way of boosting morale, he decided.

He stripped off, throwing his uniform into the chair in the corner of his bedroom before sliding under the covers. Ichigo flopped face down, allowing the pillows to slowly suffocate him until he couldn't bare it any longer and rolled over. Staring up at the ceiling, the former Shinigami considered everything that had happened that evening.

He could only imagine how much Hitsugaya was suffering, it had been a long running joke among their friendship group that the white haired Taichou was hopelessly in love with his childhood friend, but she had never looked at him twice. All because of Aizen's influence over her. Renji would be beating himself up for not noticing any kind of difference in her personality of behaviour, as would Kira and Hisagi most likely. But then, no one had realised. Izanshi was skilled in his art.

Iba would mourn Komamura, the man's way of life and way of looking at things would be missed by everyone around him. He had always been such a strong influence of positivity and seriousness, with kindness that stretched across Divisions when it was needed. Ichigo was sure that Iba would continue to live by Komamura's code.

Nnoitra was, as Grimmjow had stated many times, a bastard. Ichigo had never liked him, Shiro hadn't been keen either. His treatment of Nelliel had been abhorrent and his attitude towards his comrades deplorable. But he had been one of them. He had joined the fight to help during the escape from Hueco Mundo. His missing personality would be hugely noticeable, impossible to ignore.

Ichigo sighed deeply and ran a hand down his face, rolling onto his side and curling around his pillows in a foetal position. He wondered what Byakuya was doing. Was he still awake? Still at the office, filing paperwork? Or was he at the mansion? Tucked up in bed with a book? In the study doing some kind of out of hours work?

If he squeezed his eyes shut tightly enough he could almost imagine Byakuya's arms around him, encircling and protective. Hands sliding against his skin in that slow yet tantalising way that he had perfected. He could feel the puff of cool breath on his ear, whisperings of affection and seduction. Lips gliding across his jawline.

The strawberry bit his lip and silenced a groan, regretting the route his mind had taken as soon as he felt heat pooling in the pit of his belly. He was barely in the mood to deal with the ache now making itself known between his legs.

Teeth nibbling at his lip restlessly as he glared at the wall, he allowed his right hand to slip down beneath the covers, fingers coiling around his length. He let out a low hiss almost immediately as his body protested the lack of attention he had given it since becoming Human. He was so sensitive from the starvation of sexual contact... He finally understood why Shiro had struggled to resist fucking Byakuya in Las Noches, he too had been starved at the time.

He allowed his fingers to trail a blaze of sensation along the sensitive skin, eyes slipping closed as he tried to imagine Byakuya's fingers closing over his own. His breath hitched in his throat, almost able to feel the nobleman's lips closing over his jugular, sucking teasingly and roughly, determined to leave a mark there that would ensure everyone knew who he belonged to.

He remembered the first time they'd ended up having sex in Byakuya's office in the barracks. It had been rushed, desperate and rough. Neither of them had managed to get any further than the desk to lock the door before feeling the urgent need to take and be taken. Byakuya had gripped his wrists firmly in his grasp and twisted him face down over the mahogany wood, one free hand fumbling relentlessly with the troublesome material of their uniforms. The feeling of his lover entering him had never gotten dull, it was as fresh and good as the very first night. The way their bodies had fitted together, the way they had slotted into place. The way Byakuya was able to hit all the right spots, and was always seemingly determined to do so as often as possible while still drawing out the union.

For someone as composed, serene and borderline indifferent towards everyone around him, Byakuya reverted to a free and hot-headed creature during sex. He was firm, powerful and commanding. But tender, loving and unabashed.

With a groan, Ichigo remembered how he'd once believed no one could make him feel as good as Aizen. How wrong he had been. He was rarely pleased to be wrong, but he was practically elated to admit it about Byakuya. If there was ever a reason to re-form an addiction to physical pleasure it was the skilful loving of Byakuya Kuchiki.

Gasping as orgasm washed over him without warning, he heard himself cry out his lover and fiancé's name breathlessly, his back arching as a slow and steady warming feeling flooded his senses, leaving him panting softly and covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Ichigo's teeth clenched and he rolled onto his stomach and huffed at the unsatisfied feeling that followed his release, wiping his hand absent-mindedly on the sheets. As good as it had felt in the moment, it just left him hungry for something more. Something genuine. Something that could connect him to the Soul he missed more than any other. Imagining Byakuya's touch was bland compared to the real thing.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden sting of tears threatening to spill. He wouldn't let them free. He hadn't shed a single tear since losing his powers, he wouldn't dare start now. He couldn't. If they started they might never stop. He'd made his peace with what he'd done. He had to live with it.

Anger bubbled up. He knew it was coming, it was like a reflex. Whenever the sadness reared its head, the anger wasn't far behind. Whatever it took to keep himself going. He'd do it. He had to live the life he'd chosen. Maybe it would be kinder to move on. To stop looking over his shoulder hoping that one day he'd see Byakuya waiting for him.

He rolled over again. Staring at the ceiling. He lifted a hand and allowed his fingertips to brush his temple, eyes slipping shut as he remembered the feeling of nervousness the first time he'd dared to ware Byakuya's gift of a single kenseikan in public. He'd do anything to feel it there again now.

“It's not going to happen.” He hissed, “Get over yourself.”


	86. The Split

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya's inner struggles present themselves by his non-stop research into protecting Karakura town, while Ichigo's are reflected in his thoughts about the future.

Byakuya let out a muted groan of discomfort as he sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes as weariness finally caught up with him. He glanced at the candle sat opposite him on the tabletop. It had burnt almost to the very base, suggesting he had been working far longer than originally planned. Steel eyes lowered back to the piles of paperwork, the stacks of books and scrolls.

How many hours had it been since he'd sat down with this latest instalment of research? Seven? Eight?

The nobleman sighed and stiffly rose from the wooden seat, he was sure his joints were creaking as he returned everything to its correct shelf, tucking his notes under his arm as he cast a last look around the Archives. Everything seemed good and proper.

As he left the Seireitei Archives, Byakuya was forced to shield his eyes against the overly bright sunlight that still crept through the horizon of trees and buildings. He was sure it would have been night already. Though time seemed to move slower without his own personal sunrise in orbit around his life.

“Again, Kuchiki Taichou?”

“Renji...” He murmured, choosing not to look at the redhead as he continued walking down the pathway.

His former Fukutaichou fell into step at his side, smile small and concerned, “You're gonna exhaust yourself... Spending day after day, hour after hour among those books. What are you trying to find?”

The raven haired nobleman responded bluntly, “My task is my own. Must you follow me here every day? Surely it must have grown dull for you by now.”

“Ichigo would never forgive me if I let something happen to you. I don't entirely trust that Izanshi is gone... You'd be a good target for his anger and I don't want that to happen.”

Byakuya resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “Who do you think I am, to consider it worthy of your time to fear for my safety?”

“You missed another meeting.” Renji ignored his comment, “I made notes again, but... Kuchiki Taichou don't you think it's time you started selecting a new Fukutaichou? You need help running the Division.”

His jaw set into a firm line, “I will not select a new Fukutaichou until Kisuke Urahara informs me he is unable to restore Ichigo's powers.”

Renji sighed, and made a point of doing it loudly, but he said no more on the matter as they arrived at the Kuchiki Estate. He followed Byakuya into the study and flopped into one of the sleek leather seats nestled between the bookshelves, watching as his former Taichou took a seat at the desk at the head of the room.

“Will you at least tell me what it is you have been researching? It's kept you captivated for months.”

Byakuya hesitated, shuffling a few papers and organising the new additions to his enquiry, “Will you agree to stop following me if I tell you?”

“I'll at least agree to consider it.” Renji muttered.

“Very well.” Steel eyes narrowed as he made himself comfortable, “I agree that something seems amiss with Izanshi's disappearance. It was my belief that the Hollow would try to free Aizen, however no such attempt has been made. Instead, we have this report that Izanshi has fled to the World of the Living.”

“I agree it seems strange.” The redhead nodded, “But what could you possible find in the Archives?”

Byakuya touched his fingers to his lips as he considered his words carefully, “To put my theory simplistically for you, I have been trying to discover if there is an alternative way to create an Ōken. Aizen, of course, discovered the use of a concentrated spirit zone which is what put Karakura town at risk.”

“You're working on the assumption that Izanshi left Soul Society to enact some... Secondary attempt at creating an Ōken?”

“I'm concerned that it is a possibility. It is the only reason I can think of as to why the Hollow would not attempt to free its master.” He hummed.

“What about self preservation?” Renji argued, “I mean, I still don't believe Izanshi has actually left. But _if_ he has then... Surely it could be a result of having the Espada living in Seireitei? He must realise that he could never succeed.”

“And yet he survived in Seireitei for well over a year surrounded by some of the strongest and smartest Shinigami of our time. It simply doesn't ring true to me that he fears the Espada, according to the reports he could have been one of them based off his reiatsu levels alone, to say nothing of his particular talents.” Byakuya stood up slowly and let out a small yawn, “No. I will continue my search until I am certain there is no other way to create an Ōken. I will not have the World of the Living put at risk after Ichigo sacrificed so much to keep it safe.”

“Well... As excuses go for filling your time with anything and everything to ignore the quietness around here... It's not bad.” The Division Nine Taichou shrugged.

“I'm so pleased to have your approval.” The current Head of the Kuchiki Clan drawled humourlessly, “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get changed before Rukia arrives. She is bringing some of the Espada. I do believe they are planning to abuse the dining table for the sake of playing poker this evening.”

“You should have a rest to recover for it then, otherwise they will be placing bets on who falls asleep first. You or Starrk.”

Byakuya shot him a pointed glare as he walked passed.

* * *

Ichigo slumped on the cool leather couch, passing his beer from one hand to the other, Keigo had dragged him out for an evening on the town. They were in the club, in the private room along with Tatsuki, Mizuiro, Ishida and Orihime, Chad was there as well but he was so silent it was as if he wasn't.

Music was pounding through the room, pulsing with the overhead lights and drowning out any chance of conversation they might have had. Keigo was plastered, dancing across the tables while trying to convince Tatsuki or Orihime to join him. Ichigo was sure that Ishida was only a few seconds away from shooting the club owner with a well placed arrow.

Not wanting to spoil a good night, he downed the rest of his drink and got up to get the next round in. He was sure it was his turn.

“I'll be right back!” He shouted over the heavy bass, hoping someone heard him.

He could subtly feel the swirling warmth of intoxication touching at the edges of his focus, he wasn't drunk but he was sure a few more drinks would change that. Ichigo leaned against the bar, glancing around the main room while he waited to be served. It was a busy night, the club was heaving with people again. He was just glad he wasn't having to work for it.

“Ichigo, what are you guys havin'?” Kamin, the bubbly natured barmaid tapped him on the shoulder with a bright smile.

“Another round, and a round of saké shots please.” He replied, a smile twitching at his lips.

“I'll get those.” A new voice said quickly from behind him.

Ichigo swivelled on the spot, just enough to peek over his shoulder at who had spoken and almost immediately felt one of his eyebrows quirk upwards with interest. Easily a head taller, with a crop of long black hair and the most startling shade of green eyes, the man was muscled but lean and carried himself with a confident air. He seemed familiar... Faintly...

“And... You are?” Ichigo asked.

“Makoto Natsume.” There was a carefree grin that came with the introduction, as well as a sly wink, “And you?”

“Ichigo Kurosaki.” He replied almost mechanically, clearing his throat as he dragged his eyes away, only to snap back as he recognised him, “You were the dick who knocked me over at the carnival the other month!

The man seemed to splutter, “That's how you're remembering that? It was an accident, and I said sorry. And I am not a dick.”

He narrowed his eyes pointedly and sucked the side of his cheek fitfully, “Fair enough, it was an accident and you said sorry. But you also disappeared pretty damn quick.”

“Well... That's true.” Makoto flashed a wide smile, “Let me get your drinks as a proper apology?”

“So... Who's payin'?” Kamin asked loudly, “Is Keigo gettin' them or are we lettin' the hot newbie get them?”

“I insist.” Makoto leaned over Ichigo and passed his card over, “And I'll have a beer as well, thanks.”

“Pretty bold, aren't you?” The strawberry chuckled, though admitted the brief puff of breath he felt roll across his face smelled deliciously sweet with a hint of musk.

“I don't believe in lingering back when I see someone I like the look of.”

“Smooth. Real smooth.” Ichigo laughed, looking away.

Makoto leaned on the bar beside him, arms folded casually, “So, you're here with friends?”

“Yeah, Keigo runs the place.” He murmured, running a hand through his hair, “They kind of bullied me into it, I'd rather be sat at home.”

“But they'd you'd have missed out on meeting me again.” Jade eyes lit up with amusement.

“Ha, I appreciate the drinks... But no amount of alcohol is going to make me wish I was anywhere other than at home.”

“Here you go Ichigo!” Kamin slid the drinks across the bar towards the pair, “Enjoy~!”

“Thanks.” He replied, before glaring as he realised she had purposefully neglected to give him a tray to carry them all on, “Right... Don't suppose you fancy giving me a hand with all these?”

“It would be a pleasure.” Came easy response from his new companion.

Ichigo carried the beers, grateful that his finesse hadn't disappeared along with his Shinigami powers, and Makoto carried the shots of saké. Together they squeezed through the ever growing crowd of clubbers and slipped into the private rooms. Ichigo instantly regretted returning as he saw Keigo up on the table, pelvic thrusting for all to see.

“Interesting friends.”

“Tell me about it.” He muttered as he set the drinks down.

It only took a second glance of Keigo's awful dancing for Ichigo to down one of the shots and to snag his bottle before he beat a hasty retreat, as fast as humanly possible. He didn't even realised that Makoto had followed him at first, it was only when he broke out of the staff exit and into the back alley to feel the coldness of the night air on his face that he noticed his shadow.

“Keigo's unique dancing not to your taste either huh?” He snorted, running his fingers through his spikes of orange again as he leaned back against the wall.

“Not particularly. I don't think I've ever been seduced by someone pelvic thrusting their way into my life.”

Ichigo laughed. It felt good to laugh and he couldn't help but let it out as he rolled his eyes, “Keigo is a... He's an idiot. But a good friend. Actually, thinking about it I should go and take pictures to humiliate him with tomorrow.”

Makoto snorted at that and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat, “Do you mind if I...”

“No go ahead.”

Muttering gratitude his admirer lit the end and took a long drag, smirking to himself as he blew out a long trail of smoke, “Honestly, Karakura sure is interesting. Full of... Interesting people.”

“You're not from around here?”

“Nah, I only arrived the day of the carnival. Some friends kept telling me that the grass was greener over here so... Figured I'd shut them up and visit. Then, just my luck they're all out of town for the foreseeable.”

“That's shit.” The strawberry winced at his bad luck, “They're away working or on holiday?”

“Both.” The other man shrugged, “Neither. I don't fucking know.”

Ichigo took a sip of his beer, “You need better friends.”

“Tell me about it. Know any?”

“Hah. I mean... If you can survive the pelvic thrusts Keigo will be anyone's friend.” The strawberry pulled his phone out to check the time.

“Does that mean you're off the table?”

“Huh?” He looked up and found Makoto was a lot closer than he had been a few minutes ago, he found himself momentarily flustered by the lack of space between them and his face flushed as a result.

“I'm asking if you're single.” Those green eyes were like pools of emeralds.

“Uh...” Swallowing thickly, Ichigo glanced away, “My relationship status is set to 'complicated' right now.”

Makoto tilted his head to the side, “Long distance? Married man? Social difference?”

Chuckling, Ichigo rolled his eyes, “How about all three in some way or another? I don't think the distance could get any bigger, he's a widower and he's... Old money.”

“Wow, definitely summed up easily by 'complicated'.” They laughed together for a moment before Makoto spoke again, “So, you're off the table then?”

He hesitated, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “Believe me... I've been on several tables in my time. Whether or not I feel like it right now... Is something I'd have to think about.”

He hadn't meant to say it, he hadn't meant to flirt but... The alcohol was swimming in his senses and it felt good. It felt nice. Having someone take notice. Having someone take interest. His words to Grimmjow a few nights previously still swished around in his head. He'd practically given the Sexta permission to pursue Byakuya in his stead. It wasn't fair for the nobleman to sit around waiting for something that was never going to happen. It wasn't fair for him to wait either.

“I'm guessing your long distance happened in a pretty ugly way...” Makoto broke his train of thought.

“Huh? What makes you say that?” He asked.

“Well... The way your friends were watching you in there. Like you might snap at any second. It's got to be suffocating.”

Ichigo blinked, he hadn't given it much thought but... He was right, he'd felt Ishida's eyes on him. He'd felt Orihime's worries. It really was like they were expecting him to break. He wasn't sure if it annoyed him or made him happy to have such caring friends.

“Yeah... It was ugly and unexpected. I guess... They're not entirely sure how I'm coping with it at the moment.” He sighed deeply, “Do you always take such good notice of your surroundings?”

“Always. Besides, you deserve the extra attention in my eyes, you're the first decent looking guy I've seen in this town.” Makoto gave a throaty chuckle as he finished his cigarette, “Pass me your phone.”

“Why?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Because I'm going to give you my number, dipshit.” The black haired man grinned, “And that way, if you ever make your mind up about being on a table again... You can let me know.”

Ichigo hesitated, he couldn't help but feel like he was betraying Byakuya in some way just by entertaining the thought. Yet, he found himself pulling his phone back out of his pocket and handing it over to the dark haired male. Watching silently as he punched in his name and number for him to keep.

“So, while you're making up your mind... What are we gonna do?” Makoto raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“Go back inside for another drink, where you can join me in being tortured by Keigo's pelvic thrusts.” The former Shinigami snorted, opening the door for them both.

Makoto chuckled, “I'm sure I'll... Survive somehow.”

Ichigo tried to resist the urge to smile, “I hope so. You're the first sane person I've met in years.”

“You must know some very strange people.”

“Oh you have no idea.” Even as he said it, Ichigo shook away the tingling tendrils teasing the nape of his neck, that unnamed feeling. He didn't want to know. Not tonight.

As they returned to the V.I.P room, they found that Keigo was very much still pelvic thrusting his way through his drunkenness and had also begun singing loudly, and badly. Ichigo sat with Makoto near the back of the room, it was good to simply have a laugh with someone... And Makoto was a stranger. Someone he didn't have to pretend around.

He was aware of the man's bright eyes on him, despite their conversation outside it was more than obvious that his new found friend was still taken by him. It made his face flush with heat at the thought.

He'd almost forgotten entirely that now he was Human, people wouldn't be giving him attention because he was powerful and influential and dangerous. It would be because they were interested in him. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. It was strange, it was nice... It was new.

All his partners in Shino, all those one night stands and flings... They'd been drawn to him because he'd been willing to do almost anything to get that momentary buzz of emotion. Aizen had been drawn to him because he was an experiment, and he was strong. Byakuya... Even Byakuya had admitted that it was his attitude that had first caught his attention. Someone taking an interest purely because they thought he looked attractive... That was new.

Could he move on? Could he learn to set aside the life he'd had, in place of a new one? He wouldn't see Byakuya again... Even in death, without reiatsu he likely wouldn't remember his Shinigami life. He'd be a Rukongai Dog all over again. Alone. Was it better to seize something for himself now while he was still able to? Or should he live a celibate life, boring and alone? Sex didn't mean he was looking for a relationship... It was just a bit of fun... Just a release...

He'd have to give it serious thought before he made any decisions. If he made any decisions at all.


	87. Deserving Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of a hot spring, Ichigo continues moving forward with his new life, and a regular trip to the store ends in mayhem when he finds Hotaru and Kaida in an unfortunate situation.

Ichigo left the convenience store, balancing three paper bags in his arms as he began trudging down the street. It was scorching hot as the sun beat down on the pavement, hot enough to scold the asphalt and dry out the green leaves on the trees. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt a Spring so hot.

He knew he ought to stop counting how long had passed since his battle with Aizen but he couldn't quite stop looking at the calendar on his phone or on his desk and automatically calculating it. Sure it happened a little less often, but the moment his eyes glanced over the date he was bludgeoned over the head with that familiar feeling of emptiness that had resulted from the lack of contact from his Soul Society friends. He hadn't even seen the Espada again since their visit.

Grumbling as someone almost knocked him over in passing, the strawberry swore as he watched a large mango topple from one of his bags and roll out defiantly into the road. He stopped and stared at it, tilting his head to the side in annoyance. His entire expression seemed to question how the fruit dare try to escape him and its fate of becoming a tasty snack.

He blinked once as a car flattened the mango under its wheels and drew in a deep sigh, releasing it as slowly as he could before he turned and continued walking. His expression turned deadpan as he considered what he was going to have instead of that mango, silently judging the other food items in his bags with disinterest. Maybe he'd spring the Ishida's a surprise house call instead. He shook his head at the thought, he wasn't in the mood for company.

Sighing heavily, he stared skywards, expression turning to annoyance as the sudden urge to look over his shoulder kicked in. He didn't turn. He wouldn't see anyone there. It didn't matter anymore.

Ichigo glanced to his right as he passed an alley which ran between two sets of houses, taking in the sight of some kid getting punched in the face by a gang of three slightly taller kids. He carried on walking and then blinked, paused and back tracked to check that he had seen what his brain was telling him he'd seen.

“Oi!” He shouted, “What do you think you're doing?!”

Shopping discarded in an untidy pile, he ran down the alleyway towards the fight, putting himself between the smaller kid and the punks. He took a kick to the shin and a punch to the gut, but apparently his refusal to even flinch caused concern and the three hooded brats ran off as fast as their legs would carry them.

“That's right! Scram!” Shaking his head in disbelief, Ichigo turned on the spot to check on the kid his eyes widening as he recognised dark hair and warm brown eyes, “Hotaru?!”

“I-Ichi-ji?!” The boy stared with wide eyes, apparently no longer concerned by the blood running from his nose, “W-What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing... It doesn't matter! Are you alright?” He knelt down and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder, “Who were those guys? Are they from school?”

Hotaru looked away for a moment before stepping to the side, revealing Kaida who had been cowering behind the bins, “They were picking on her.”

“What...” Ichigo's eyes widened and he hurried forwards, hugging her tightly, “You were protecting her?”

“Of course!” The boy said with a frown, “They were pulling her hair... Threatening to cut it off. So I shoved them away from her. Then they punched me.”

“He's not in trouble is he?” Kaida asked quietly, tear marks streaking her face.

“Of course he isn't.” Ichigo took Hotaru and Kaida's hand and lead them both from the alleyway, “Come on, let's get you home. Your dad can patch you both up and check you over.”

“Dad's gonna be so mad.” Hotaru groaned.

“Why would he be mad at you?”

“We weren't meant to go out today... But we wanted to go to the park. I said I'd take Kaida and look after her and this happened... He's gonna be so mad with us both.”

“I think your dad will probably tell you not to go off without telling him again, but he'll be more worried about you than mad.” Ichigo murmured, “Besides, I'll be with you.”

He glanced at his bags of shopping as he passed and inwardly sighed, he needed another three arms at least he decided as he walked on by. He would come back later to see if anything was still there, and if not then he'd just have to do another shop. Right now, there was a little dragon and a firefly who needed him more than he needed his bags of food.

“How did you know where we were?” Kaida asked quietly.

“Huh?”

“You found us so fast!” She tilted her head.

“I... I was in the area and heard the commotion.” He said honestly, “I'm glad I was around though. Those kids were like twice your size! Who were they anyway?”

“They're in the year above us.” Hotaru muttered.

“Are they the ones who made you self conscious before Kaida?”

“Yeah.” She whispered, her fingers wrapping around her hair.

“Brats.” He hissed, “Picking on kids smaller than they are. They're cowards, nothing more.”

“They sure ran fast when you got there!” Hotaru said suddenly, as if realising, “You must be super strong...”

Ichigo smiled sadly, “Not as strong as I used to be.”

By the time they were walking up the path to their home, Kaida and Hotaru were in better spirits and waited silently as Ichigo knocked on the door. They looked a little bashful when Ishida opened the door and took in the sight before him.

“What the... What happened?!” The Quincy demanded, “Come inside!”

“What's all the shouting about?” Orihime asked, poking her head around the doorway from the kitchen as the three of them bundled into the hallway, “Oh my goodness!”

“They're fine.” Ichigo said as he let Kaida go and watched the girl instantly run to her mother, “I happened to be passing and... Hotaru was protecting her from some bullies.”

“Bullies?” Ishida's eyes narrowed, “Was it those kids from the year above them again?”

“Yeah.” He nodded once, “They seem fine. Hotaru's nose will probably bruise, but it's not broken. Kaida's just got some scuffs. They'll be alright.”

The Quincy looked down at Hotaru, his expression stern as he knelt down, “And how exactly did you manage to escape the house without me noticing?”

“Uh...” The boy bit his lip nervously as his nose was inspected, “I... Found some of your books... On how to suppress reiatsu...”

“And you've been teaching yourself and your sister?” Ishida's eyebrow quirked in annoyance.

“Maybe?”

Ichigo had to repress a smirk, covering his mouth with his hand as he cleared his throat. Clearly Ishida had underestimated how talented his children would become.

“I see.” The Quincy sighed and dabbed away the blood from his son's nose with a cloth, before showing the smallest of smiles, “I'm proud of you.”

“You... Are?”

“You protected your sister, even when things got tough you stuck by her. Of course I'm proud of you.” Ishida hugged his son tightly and then turned to check on Kaida, Orihime had already finished healing her cuts and bruises, “And you, little one, come here.”

Ichigo watched as Ishida hugged the twins and leaned against the door frame casually, it was always nice to see what a good father the Quincy had become, despite the unpleasant way Ryūken had raised him.

“Right, you two, go upstairs and rest. We'll call you down when dinner is ready.” Orihime clapped her hands and watched the pair hurry up the staircase, “Thank you Kurosaki-kun.”

“Huh? Oh I didn't do anything.” He waved a hand, “I just happened to be there.”

“It seems I will have to start teaching them sooner than I though.” Ishida muttered as he straightened up, brushing his suit down, “They're far more advanced than I was at their age. Even with the Hōgyoku's interference.”

“What do you expect, you're both gifted.” The strawberry shrugged and straightened up, “Right, I'll get off. I need to go and... Fuck I need to see if my shopping's still here. See you later!” He said before sprinting out of the house and down the street.

By the time he skidded to a stop at the mouth of the alley his bags were gone. He knew they would be. There was no way it wouldn't have been stolen.

“Ugh,” he ran a hand down his face, “Whatever.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, shoved his hands in his pockets and headed home. It was still way too hot for his liking and he was sure that a few more days of sunlight would leave his skin the same colour as Renji's hair, or worse. He trudged up to the third floor of the apartment block and plodded along to his door, pausing as he found himself staring at three seemingly perfect bags of groceries.

“What the fuck?” He said aloud, glancing around to see if someone was waiting for him.

Shrugging at his good fortune, he grabbed the bags and unlocked his apartment door, flicking on a light as he headed into the kitchen. It was only when he put the bags on the counter that he noticed the little sticky note inside one of them. He plucked it free and glanced over the message.

“Saw the spat in the alley and picked up your shopping. Thank me with a drink. Makoto.” Ichigo raised an eyebrow and threw the note in the bin with a chuckle, “Motherfucker.”

They'd met up several times since meeting at Keigo's bar. Once or twice had been at the club again, and a few times for coffee. Ichigo was reluctant to admit that he found the man's company somewhat refreshing. There was none of the silent acknowledgement that Soul Society hadn't been in contact, or that Ichigo was adjusting to a life that was just a little too small for him. It was neutral, natural and easy. Makoto was easy on the eye as well as the braincells.

Ichigo unpacked his shopping and put everything away, taking the time to make a sandwich before he plodded into the main room and sat down. He wasn't in the mood for television or reading. He wasn't really in the mood for much at all, he decided as he munched on his food. He couldn't quite shake his surprise at having found Kaida and Hotaru in the clutches of bullies, Kaida's confidence had already taken a few knocks because of her hair and now people were physically escalating the situation. He was sure Ishida and Orihime could handle it but... It didn't stop him wanting to go and find the parents of the little brats to see what the hell they were teaching their kids.

He stared across the wall, attention grabbed the the mask hanging about half way up. Scarlet and gold, the samurai mask from the carnival. He'd kept it, hung it on the wall when he'd got the apartment. In fact, it had been one of the first things he'd unpacked. Silly really.

Shaking his head, he chucked his plate down on the coffee table and pulled his phone from his pocket. It was still early and he didn't have work. He glanced at the paper bag still poking its head out of the bin and rolled his eyes. He dropped Makoto a text, inviting him over for a coffee.

Taking his plate out to clean, he was surprised when his phone pinged almost instantly with an eager reply. Smiling to himself as he washed his plate, dried it and put it away, Ichigo made sure the apartment was presentable.

It wasn't long before there was a ring of the doorbell, and he was admitting the man entrance.

“I'm glad you messaged.” The dark haired man grinned, taking his shoes off, “I've been bored out of my mind!”

“Your friends still aren't back?” Ichigo asked as he flopped on the couch.

“They are, they came back yesterday but... Well, turns out they're all too busy to spare any time for me.” He shrugged, “So... I'm thinking of leaving Karakura town soon, maybe in a few weeks... There's nothing really for me here.”

“Oh.” The strawberry paused, his expression visibly unhappy for a moment, “That's a shame. I'll miss you.”

“Nah, you'll forget all about me after a month or two!” He laughed, sitting beside him on the sofa, “Besides, what's the point of hanging onto people who aren't interested and don't make the effort? I'd rather face the truth now than in a few more months. They aren't my friends anymore. They're just people I used to know.”

Ichigo sat back in his seat and frowned faintly, it was uncomfortable to admit how close the comparison was to his own life. Surely Soul Society had tracked Izanshi down by now, and if so why had no one been to see him since the Espada? He felt guilty for even thinking it, but it was as if they had all forgotten him. He'd done his bit for the Soul King and now he's was being left out to pasture. He wasn't important anymore.

“Ugh, fuck them.” Ichigo said suddenly, slapping his hand on his leg, “If they don't appreciate you then don't give them another thought. You're young, you're attractive and smart. You can go anywhere, do anything! You don't need some... Dead weight friendship holding you back.”

“Oh so you think I'm handsome now?” Makoto wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fuck off.” The strawberry looked away with a smile, “I'm just saying... Don't put yourself on a back burner for people who keep letting you down.”

“You sound like you get it.” He rested his chin on his hand, “Is that guy of yours still giving you the cold shoulder then?”

Ichigo's lips pursed and he glanced at him fleetingly, “It's not... Exactly his fault.”

“Oh yeah? I've heard that before. Come on then, tell me how its not his fault.”

They moved into the kitchen as he put the kettle on and prepared two mugs, his arms folding over his chest restlessly, “His... Job... It's keeping us apart and his bosses have... Ordered him not to visit. They're busy as hell, it would be selfish to assume they can spare time just for me.” He muttered.

“And you used to work for these guys too right?” Makoto asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well... You must have other friends there. And none of them have bothered to visit?”

“A couple of them did a few months back but... Nothing since then. They were just dropping in to tell me that someone we used to... Run security for has gone rogue, so to speak.” He rubbed his chin, “Apparently he might want a rematch because I had something to do with them finding out he was playing both sides of the fence.”

“I see...” Makoto leaned back against the counter, looking at Ichigo seriously, “Look, maybe I'm speaking out of turn here but it seems kind of simple from where I'm sitting. If I cared about you as much as your friends are meant to, as much as your man is meant to then... Nothing would stop me from coming to visit you, even if it was to make sure you were settling in alright. I mean... Come on, what is some job compared to the people you love? Your man needs to get his priorities right or he'll end up losing you.”

Ichigo huffed, he'd been thinking the same thing recently. If he was really that important to his friends would a few orders really stop them coming to see him? The Espada had taken the time to sneak out. But his closest friends? Rukia? Renji? Byakuya? He hadn't seen anything of them. He knew that if their places had been reversed nothing would have stopped him sneaking out at every opportunity to see them.

“Maybe you're right.” He shrugged, looking down as he finished making the drinks, “I want to believe that they are just busy. But... You're right, I mean I wouldn't let a few little rules get in the way if it was me.”

“I'm sorry...” The man sighed deeply, “I shouldn't have said that, I'm a jackass. I'm sure they haven't... Forgotten about you or anything. Maybe they're struggling too. Maybe they miss you that much that coming to see you and then leaving you behind again would be... Painful.”

“Who knows.” He muttered, taking a heavy sip of the hot liquid, “Whatever, I didn't ask you here to reminisce about how shit life is. Thanks for picking up my shopping by the way.”

“Oh, no worries. I was passing in the car and saw you with those two kids. They looked upset, did something happen?”

“Just some lowlife bullies.” Ichigo replied, “I took them back to their parents, they'll be fine before the day's over.”

“Let me guess... The girl's hair?”

“How did you know?” He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, seems kids haven't changed that much in the last twenty years. They still hate anything that's different.”

“I'm guessing you got that shit growing up too?”

“Of course.” He snorted, “Kids never change.”

“Well, I'm sure the girl will learn to have belief in herself before too long, she'll tell them where to go.” Makoto smiled comfortingly, “And if all else fails... Go beat the parents up. I'll give you an alibi.”

Ichigo laughed softly and shook his head, “Don't tempt me. Honestly, I wouldn't be all that surprised if they ended up being the spawn of the kids who used to bully me. It probably runs in families.”

“Probably.”

Letting out a breath, Ichigo stared down at the brown liquid in his mug, biting his lip, “You know... It will be a shame to see you leave. But you should seize your own life, forget about everything else and just... Live.”

“Sounds like you should take your own advice.” Makoto murmured, “Are you really going to waste away here... Waiting on a guy who's let you down for the last... What was it... Six months?”

“Seven now...” He whispered, “Every day... It's creeping closer and closer to a year... I'm not sure what to do with myself anymore. I want to believe he still cares but... I know we probably aren't going to see each other again. I want him to be happy. I want to be happy too.”

“I don't know what went on between you... I don't feel like you're ready to be entirely honest about it either but...” The man shook his head, “Someone like you shouldn't wither away like a nun.”

“Like me?” He snorted.

“Yes, like you.” Makoto straightened up and reached out boldly, brushing his fingers through Ichigo's hair, “Handsome... Intelligent... Funny... You deserve better than to be disregarded and forgotten.”

Ichigo's mouth was dry, the way Makoto was looking at him... He hadn't seen that look in a long time. It was tender, but it was deep. He felt his chest tighten with the familiar anxiety he got whenever he considered trying to move on. There were just too many variables. What if something changed? What if Byakuya suddenly appeared in Karakura town to see him?

But it had been seven months. Seven long months and there hadn't been a single sign. Not a word from Ishida, Orihime or Chad, they hadn't seen any Shinigami either. No one had come to visit. No one.

Maybe Makoto had been right. Maybe they didn't care about him as much as he cared about them. Maybe things had changed. Maybe Byakuya and Grimmjow _had_ ended up closer, maybe they _had_ gotten together just like he'd given his blessing for. Maybe that was why... Maybe that was why he was alone.

All he was left with was the stifling gazes of his Human friends while they watched for the smallest change. Their stares had become more and more pronounced, or maybe he had just started to notice them easier. Where once it had made him feel cared for, he now began to find it irritating and suffocating. It was as if they didn't believe he could function, he couldn't live a normal Human life without snapping mentally. Their lack of faith was hurtful.

“I was meant to be getting married.” Ichigo said quietly, lowered his gaze from Makoto's face, “In the Spring... Now... We were meant to be getting married.”

“You were engaged?” The dark haired man blinked, “You never said...”

“I thought I had... Sorry...” He ducked his head sheepishly, “I don't think you'd understand half of what we went through, it's... Crazy and insane and... Messy... But I believed we could get through it. I gave up everything to protect people I care about, people I love and... They've abandoned me.”

“I won't pretend I get it... But... It sounds to me like you deserve better.”

“I just wish I knew! For sure! A message... A visit... Anything just to put my mind at rest. To let me know whether or not I can move on...” He rubbed his forehead restlessly, “I can't believe he'd abandon me but... All the evidence suggests otherwise.”

“You deserve better.” Makoto said again.

“Yeah... I do.” He muttered.


	88. Kuchiki Pride and Street Brawls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya continues to cling to his research in hopes of protecting Karakura town now that Ichigo can't, and reminisces about his recent regrets and mistakes, as well as discovering something rather unexpected when he bumps into Renji.  
> In contrast, Ichigo is making strides at moving on with his life, although he still aches for what he's lost he's learning to slowly make the most of things and enjoy what he's got, a blast from the past gives him exactly the distraction he needs too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick apology for the slightly sporadic updates, life has been a bit hectic! Hope you are all doing well and staying safe!

Byakuya yawned and rose from his desk, blowing out the candle which had diligently sat beside him until the early hours of the morning. He would likely have continued his work, were it not for the nagging memory of the news he had received earlier that day.

Urahara would be visiting Soul Society sometime in the week for the first time since Aizen's imprisonment. The nobleman could only hope and pray that meant the blond had finally uncovered a way to return Ichigo's Shinigami powers. He couldn't think of another reason for the man to visit. The thought filled him with as much hope as it did trepidation.

The thought of Ichigo returning to Soul Society after eight long months was... Exciting and horrifying in equal measure. What if he no longer felt the same as he had before losing his powers? What if he no longer wanted a relationship? Byakuya could hardly blame him if that was the case, for eight months Kyōraku had forbidden any of them setting foot in Karakura. He understood that it was for the best, they had to consolidate their forces, confirm Izanshi's whereabouts, make repairs. But it had been hard. It had been agonising, Soul rending... Heart breaking.

More so upon hearing from the Espada that they had managed to sneak in and out of Karakura town to see Ichigo. He wished they had taken him with them, but the risk of being caught was more than big enough for them already without him tagging along. They had reported that Ichigo seemed to be in good health, making something of a normal life for himself. It was a comfort, to know that he was doing alright.

His heart had only been thrown more into turmoil upon a more private conversation with Grimmjow. The blue haired Espada had cornered Byakuya alone, confessed that he had been to see Ichigo again after the other Espada had returned to Urahara's store. By all accounts, Ichigo was struggling to come to terms with his new life, his lack of company.

Byakuya was sure his heart had broken just a little to hear that Grimmjow had been given permission to pursue his feelings towards him, Ichigo's heart was big enough to see the larger picture. To know that eventually... Everyone moved on.

Only once had he considered rekindling that heated encounter from Las Noches, it had been a bad night. Full of alcohol and misery and self pity. Grimmjow had been there as a friend, as a comfort. And he had been tempted. He'd flooded himself with self-loathing for even considering it. Grimmjow... Despite every initial impression he'd ever had about the Sexta Espada, had been a complete gentleman. Putting the cork in the bottle of saké, making a strong batch of tea, offering an ear and a shoulder. He could barely wish for a better friend.

Closing the study door behind him, he turned towards the staircase, freezing on the spot as he saw a glow of red hair waiting for him. Renji.

“What are you still doing up at this time of night?” He asked his former second in command, the faint luminosity from the candles around the hallway cast enough of a light to show the man's face, he looked troubled.

“Rukia.” Came the gruff reply, Renji sounded just as tired as Byakuya felt, “We've been having some... Problems.”

“Problems?” The noble raised an eyebrow, “What's wrong?”

“You're not gonna assume I've done something?” The redhead sounded almost surprised.

“I am sure if you were at fault I would have heard of it by now. The fact that I had not noted anything to be amiss in your relationship is enough to tell me that you are not the cause of these problems.”

Renji ran a hand down his face, “Right... Sorry. I'm tired.”

“No matter.” He approached the redhead and reached out, resting his hand on his shoulder only to recoil at the deathly chill rising from his body, “Renji?!”

“Now you see the problem.”

Renji was shivering, there was a tinge of blue to the very edges of his lips and the dark circles under his eyes suggested this was a regular occurrence. Byakuya couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before. Had he truly been so wrapped up in his own mind, in his own work that he had failed to notice how sickly Renji was looking?!

“What's happened?” He asked, taking his haori from his shoulders and wrapping it around his former Fukutaichou in order to warm him up.

“Rukia... At night once she's asleep... The room gets cold. Unbelievably cold.” The redhead murmured, “I've woken up a few times to find myself frozen to the bed. There's literal ice crawling up the walls, across the windows... The floor. It's like being inside a freezer.”

Byakuya frowned faintly at his description, touching his fingers to his lips in thought, “I recall Hitsugaya Taichou recounting similar events when his Zanpakutō was calling to him. He would wake to find his grandmother in a similar condition to yourself.”

“But she already has her Zanpakutō.” Renji grunted.

“Take me to her room. This is something I must see for myself.”

Byakuya followed Renji up the stairs. Rukia's room was on the opposite side of the mansion to his own, with a large window which looked out over the dense cherry tree forest at the southern end of the estate.

They were still four or five doors away when Byakuya began to feel the distinctive chill which had crept out into the hallway; it was at that point that the Kuchiki heir moved ahead of Renji, not wanting the redhead to be exposed to the brunt of the coldness.

Blinking as he watched his breath take form as he exhaled, crisp white tendrils of air swirled up in front of his face. He reached out, palm resting on the frigid wood of the door as he pushed it open, the hinges creaked with protest as he cracked the layer of ice that had encased them.

At a first glance, Byakuya could have sworn that Rukia's bedroom had become a palace of intricate frosted glass, but given the temperature the truth screamed of cold, of ice. The books and clothes, curtains and couches were trapped in icy form. Beautiful under the glare of the scarlet Shakkahō light he swiftly summoned into life in his palm, the ground was frozen solid underfoot.

Icicles dangled from the shadowy confines of the window frame, gusts of unnaturally cold air billowing into the room from the outside world.

“Where is she?” Byakuya demanded, turning to face Renji in the doorway, “Where was she when you left?!”

“W-What?!” Renji stuck further into the room, braving the chill as his eyes darted around, “She was in bed when I left! That window wasn't open before...”

Byakuya could see the crumpled bedsheets where they had been lazily pushed aside, frozen solid with delicate snowflakes, crunching the Kidō light ball in his fist as he darted towards the open window, he leaned out of it, hands on the frame and peered downwards.

“We're two floors up,” the Kuchiki heir breathed, “Surely she didn't...”

He trailed off, throat constricting as his keen eyes latched onto a thousand tiny crystal flowers scattered in a winding trail across the grass, heading towards the cherry blossom forest Rukia loved so much. He followed the path with his eyes, squinting as it seemed to disappear among the trees and the scattering of fallen petals.

Without waiting for Renji to catch up, he slipped out of the window and dropped down onto the ground, Shunpo bouncing him towards the woodland quickly. He was forced to slow as he reached the line of trees, the stirring of the air telling him Renji was right behind him.

Byakuya cast his eyes around, despite the darkness of the night the trees seemed almost illuminated by the soft glow of freckled snow and ice within. Avoiding the winging, grabbing, gnarled roots the pair carefully traversed the thicket of trees.

“What do you think is happening?” Renji asked, his voice was quiet, concerned.

“I have a hunch, I'm just not sure I believe it yet.” He murmured in response.

They emerged into a clearing, it was vast. A large scenic lake rested at its heart, fed by a towering waterfall that even Byakuya had never seen before. The waterfall trailed from a gorge, the only snow streaked rock distinguishable from any other rock around them, all its height, all its grandeur jagged and jutting. It was beautiful.

But the inescapable truth lay at the centre of the lake, the frozen water compacted layer by layer providing a solid and stable floor to walk on. And the glimmering white figure stood in the very middle, head tilted back gazing sightlessly at the clear skies.

Rukia. She was stunning. Beautiful. Elegant. Every inch the nobility her name carried. Her bedclothes were gone, replaced by an ankle-length kimono with lined patterns. The robe had attached ornate collar, edges and shoulder design with long, sweeping wide sleeves. Flowing ribbons tied at her back in numerous large loops. There was a small ice flower at the centre of her chest, with a matching half crown of ice which encircled the side of her head. Her hair was sunning white, and Sode no Shirayuki was clasped in her hands, but the blade had become pure ice.

“What... Is all of this?” Renji breathed, his eyes wide as he stared at the demure woman in awe.

Byakuya's expression softened, pride welling in his chest as he sucked in a shaky breath. He swallowed the constricting emotion that swelled in his chest, tilting his head to one side as he allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips, “It is her Bankai.”

“Holy shit.”

“My sentiments exactly.” He chuckled, “Now she will need to learn to control it, so that she doesn't harm you or herself while she sleeps. I believe Hitsugaya Taichou will be a beneficial tutor to her. Come, we need to rouse her and guide her to thaw herself out safely.”

“Alright.” The redhead said mutedly, tiptoeing nervously onto the ice, “Is this safe?”

“Can't you tell?” Byakuya strode forwards confidently, “The very ice itself is imbued with her reiatsu. She would never harm us. It is safe.”

He reached his sister quickly, gently brushing her cheek with his fingers. She was still in a sleep-like state, or perhaps she had been drawn deeply inside of her Inner World much like how Ichigo had been in the days before the Winter War.

“Rukia, it's time to surface. The hour is late, you need rest. You have done incredibly well, I could not be prouder. But this is enough.” He whispered, noting the coldness of her skin, “Sode no Shirayuki, keeping her in this state for much longer will harm her body, I'm sure you don't wish for that. Let her go for now. She must learn how to make use of this gift properly.”

Byakuya watched as life slowly returned to Rukia's eyes, she looked up at him in confusion, a small frown touching her brow, “Nii-sama?”

“Welcome back.” He said softly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, “You're safe. All is well. Renji, summon a Hell Butterfly and sent it to Division Ten, order it to remain at Hitsugaya's side until he wakes. Inform him of this development and request his assistance.”

“What happened?” Rukia asked, looking down at herself and their surroundings, “It's... So cold...”

“Your Zanpakutō has given you a spectacular gift, one which will embellish you in the history of Soul Society. Sode no Shirayuki has seen fit to reveal your Bankai, Rukia. And a powerful one it will be once you have mastered it.”

“Bankai? Me?” She stared, “I've heard her calling to me more and more frequently during my sleep... I can't believe it.”

“Believe it.” Renji muttered gruffly, “I'm happy for you and all, love, but for fuck's sake the sooner you control it the better. I'm at serious risk of having you freeze my balls off.”

Byakuya snorted reluctantly, biting down on his lip to silence himself from making any further noise as he guided Rukia away from the lake. He looked down at her fondly, he could only imagine how proud Hisana would be to see how strong her sister had become.

“Now, let us return to the mansion. I think for tonight we can open one of the guest suites for you Renji, so that you don't end up with frost bite.” Byakuya had to refrain from laughing as he caught a glimpse of Renji's expression, “Some sleep is the best remedy for all of us I think.”

* * *

Ichigo leaned against the wall outside of Mashiba Middle School once again, it was Friday and he was determined to make extra sure that Kaida and Hotaru went home feeling sick from all the ice cream he was going to feed them. According to Ishida, the twins hadn't encountered any more issues outside of school from the bullies, but there had been a few more spats at lunchtimes and break times. The teachers were doing their best, but in Ichigo's opinion it wasn't good enough.

Glancing up as he heard the familiar sound of the bell ringing, he pushed away from the wall and tucked his phone back into his pocket, peering around the gate in time to see the twins flying towards him. They greeted him with their usual hugs, Kaida's arms reaching around his thighs while Hotaru grabbed his waist. Except, Kaida's arms were higher than normal, he hadn't noticed that morning but she had definitely grown.

“Ichi-ji!” She grinned widely.

“Good evening you two.” He smiled back, ruffling their hair, “You ready for ice cream?”

“Yeah!” Came the unified response.

“Come on then.” He grabbed their hands, one little body on either side of him, and started walking away from the school, “So, how was it today?”

“Alright,” Hotaru shrugged, “Got a bunch of homework to do.”

“Ew, homework.” The strawberry cringed, “And you Kaida?”

“I'm good.” She smiled confidently, “I... I stood up for myself today! Those boys tried to pull my hair today and I stopped them. I stomped on their feet and told them I wasn't scared of them. They didn't know where to look or what to say! I took them by surprise!”

Ichigo broke into a beam at her story, “That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!”

“She was awesome.” Hotaru agreed.

“So, what brought about the change?” He asked her.

She clenched a fist in front of her as she spoke, “Two things changed. First, I realised that you were right when you said bullies can only affect me if I let their words mean anything to me. And secondly, I decided that as a Quincy I have to have pride in myself! Dad says that a Quincy's pride is the very core of their power, without it I'll never get stronger.”

He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her brother, “So, Ishida's started teaching you then.”

“Yeah, after the whole... Sneaking out thing.” He murmured, “Kaida's... Pretty good at it. She's already got the basics of sensing reiatsu down. I'm struggling a bit. It's hard, focusing on something you can't even see.”

“Tell me about it.” He muttered, pushing the door to the ice cream parlour open, “In you go.”

He watched as they darted to their usual seat, he ordered the ice creams and slipped into the booth beside Hotaru, “I always sucked at sensing reiatsu too. It was like... Impossible. Unless I knew the person really, really well... I couldn't sense anything.”

“Did you ever improve?”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” he smiled slightly at the memory of the first time he had sensed reiatsu without even trying, “It was a matter of accepting myself. Accepted everything about myself. I don't think that would be the same for you though.”

“Dad mentioned spirit ribbons, a way of visualising reiatsu... I don't know where to begin.”

“It's easy!” Kaida clapped her hands on the table excitedly, “You just have to close your eyes and think really hard.”

“I do think really hard!” Hotaru protested, huffing slightly, “I just can't do it. I get fuzzy outlines.”

“It will take time,” Ichigo smiled, “Don't lose hope. Maybe, try with people close to you first. Think about your mum, your dad, Kaida... Even me if you want. Think about what the person means to you, special memories you have with them. Just imagine their entire being.”

“I'll try.” He sighed.

“Ichi-ji?” Kaida tilted her head.

“Yes?” The strawberry looked at her.

“Dad said that normal Humans have white spirit ribbons, while Shinigami have red ones.” She murmured, tapping her fingers absent-mindedly on the seat beside her, “I can see yours right now, as easy as breathing.”

“Oh?”

“It's... Weird. Sort of braided. Red and white.” She stated, blinking, “I thought it would be all white, seeing as you don't have any powers now.”

Ichigo stared, considering her words, “Uh... Maybe it hasn't updated yet?” He shrugged, “No idea.”

“It's pretty.” She murmured.

He felt his mobile vibrate in his back pocket, pulling it free as the twins entertained themselves. He flipped the device open and took note of the text from Makoto. He was inviting him out for coffee. Ichigo couldn't quite stop the small smile spreading across his lips, but regardless he tapped out a quick refusal, explaining that he was spending time with the twins. There was only a momentary pause before he received an understanding reply.

“You look happy, Ichi-ji.” Kaida said suddenly.

The strawberry blinked and stowed his phone away as he looked at her, “Do I?”

“Mm.” Hotaru agreed, “You've not been right ever since you came to stay with us, mum and dad said it was because you missed your friends.”

Faltering, he shuffled in his seat, “Yeah... That's true.”

“But you've been a little bit better recently.” The young girl noted, “Not all the time, sometimes you still have that really sad look in your eyes when you think we aren't looking. But now you seem a little brighter. Did something happen?”

“I... Didn't realise you could read me so well.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Well... I met a new friend... We've been talking a lot. I guess it's slowly been putting everything into perspective.”

“I'm glad.” She smiled.

They ate their ice cream when it arrived, working their way through the mountain Ichigo had ordered them, just as he had promised. They didn't leave until they all felt at least a little bit sick. He held the door open for them and grabbed their hands as they started heading towards home.

“Ichi-ji?” Hotaru glanced up at him.

“Yeah?” he smiled.

“What did you look like before? When you had your powers?”

He looked ahead, letting out a small chuckle, “I mean it depends really. I went through... Quite a few changes.”

“Tell us about them, please?” Kaida gripped his hand all the tighter.

“Alright, alright. Well... I looked like this when I joined the Academy, but younger, like a teenager. When I graduated and joined Division Five, I grew my hair out a bit, it was kinda shaggy and longer than it is now. When I finally accepted myself for who and what I was, my hair grew incredibly long, it looked kinda more like your mum's, and I ended up with this brand on the side of my neck-”

“Was that your Hollow's influence?” Hotaru asked.

“My Hollow... How much has Ishida told you?”

“Enough for us to understand.” The boy shrugged.

Scowling slightly as he looked ahead again, he sighed, “Well, yes that was Shiro's influence. He looked like a pure white version of me, for the record. Anyway, the only other change was my tattoos... I ended up covered in a bunch of black swirls that basically identified me as the head of my family.” He paused, considering his final form with only a small tinge of regret, “My biggest change was when I defeated Aizen. I became one with my Zanpakutō. My hair turned black and my eyes turned red, I got a bit taller. And stronger, much stronger.”

“Which did you like the most?” Kaida asked sweetly.

“Mm.” He paused to consider it, melting at the wide innocent in her eyes, “I guess... I liked all of them. They were all part of me, all part of who I was becoming.”

“Mum says you were the strongest Shinigami to ever exist... Was... She telling the truth?”

“Uh... I mean I don't know about that.” He shrugged, “I was strong, yeah and I took down the big bad guy... I was strong enough to protect what I loved. I think that's what matters.”

“I wish we could have seen you as a Shinigami... I bet you looked really cool.” Hotaru mumbled.

“What, I don't look cool now?” He snorted, “The cheek of it.”

“I mean you are cool and everything, but it's not like you're walking around with a sword and tattoos anymore.” He shrugged.

“True,” Ichigo couldn't help but agree, “Brutal. But true.”

He dropped the twins off at home, sparing a few quick words with their parents before he headed off home. His hands were deep in his pockets and he stifled a yawn, hiding his mouth in his shoulder, too lazy to pull his hand back out.

He couldn't have been more than a few yards from the stairs of the apartment building when he heard a voice behind him. He groaned as a spike of warning shot up his spine, making his arm hairs stand on end.

“Oi, Kurosaki!”

He turned curiously to see who would be yelling at him, he saw a tall well muscled man at the head of a small gang of other men. From what he could see, the guy who had yelled to him, was pretty unattractive, he was sporting a thin moustache and a badly bleached afro. There was a ring piercing through his left nostril and it seemed to be linked to one in his ear by a golden chain. His glasses were half moons with thin black rims. With a squint, Ichigo noticed the baseball bat that was slung over his shoulder.

“What do you want?” The strawberry asked, tilting his head.

“Don't you remember my face, Kurosaki?” He sneered, fingers twitching on the handle of the bat.

“Uh...” He blew out a breath and looked him over again before shrugging, “I can't say I do. I'm sure I'd remember someone with _that_ face though, maybe you've got the wrong guy.”

“Tch, with that cocky attitude? I don't think so!” The other man spat, “You haven't changed at all from when we were kids. You're still a little punk who thinks he's special.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ichigo folded his arms over his chest, “Right... So, you're someone I knew as a kid? Great. Nice to see you again. Goodbye.”

It was probably a stupid move to turn his back on the gang, but he wanted to get in and have a shower and relax for the evening.

“Don't turn your back on me you little fuck! You think you can threaten my kid and get away with it? You?!”

Ichigo stopped with one foot on the bottom stair, his expression changing slowly, “You're the parent of one of the kids who's been bullying Kaida and Hotaru?”

“Bullying? Please, it's all fun and games, he's just trying to teach her a lesson. She ain't special. She's got no right to stand out.”

“I see.” He pulled his phone from his pocket slowly and dialled, lifting the device to his ear, “Excuse me? I'd like to order an ambulance. The location? Uh, just outside of the apartment blocks in the Sakurabashi district. Number of ambulances?” Ichigo trailed off for a moment and finally turned around, looking at the gang again, “Let me see... One, two, three, four, five... Five ambulances.”

“You bastard!”

He threw his phone aside as he watched the men run at him, grinning wickedly as he ducked their first few swings. He played with them, darting and dodging around until they grew so frustrated two of them almost knocked each other out instead of him.

“You know, I think I do remember you actually. Yokochini right?” He asked, his fist slamming into one of the other men's jaws, dropping him instantly, “Didn't your dad run a big company and move away just before my family were murdered? Sounds right...”

He dropped, hands planted on the ground as he spun, his foot smacking one of the other gang members hard, he watched as he didn't move again. A palm slam to the chest, a punch to the jaw, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin. Ichigo remembered every hand-to-hand combat move he'd ever learnt. Whether they were dirty or not.

“I'm glad I had the chance to reconnect with you, Yokochini.” He headbutted the last gang member standing between him and his target, easily catching the bat between his hands as it was swung, bringing him face to face with the thug, “I was hoping I'd have a chance to show you that I turned into someone who wouldn't be shoved around just because of the colour of my hair.”

“Y-You're a monster...”

“Yeah, and I suggest you remember that next time you encourage your kid to pick on Kaida or Hotaru. Because if I hear that they've touched another hair on that girl's head... I'll come after you. And you won't be so luck to escape with just a broken nose.” Ichigo thrusted his head forwards, hearing the satisfying crunch of Yokochini's nose popping out of alignment, “Next time... I'll kill you.”

Brushing his hands together as he stepped back to assess his handiwork, Ichigo snorted at the sorry state of men sprawled across the ground in front of him, “Honestly.” Was all he could say as he retrieved his phone and headed up to his apartment.

He watched from the balcony as the ambulances arrived and took the gang away, smirking to himself as he heard Yokochini babbling fruitlessly to the paramedics.

“Makoto was right,” Ichigo chuckled as he went inside, “When in doubt... Take your problem to the parents.”

Pulling his phone out, he dialled Ishida's private number and held the phone to his ear using his shoulder as he grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.

“Kurosaki, what do you want? I'm working.” Came the annoyed tone he'd come to find somewhat affectionate.

“Nothing much, don't worry I won't keep you,” he smirked as he popped the cap off his drink, “I just thought I'd warn you that you've got five ambulances coming your way with some rough looking guys.”

“And you would know that how?” There was an exasperated sigh, “You haven't been fighting have you?”

“Only a little bit.” He winced at the accusation, “But hey, none of them are too bad, just a few bandages and let them go.”

“And painkillers, knowing your style.”

“I'd skip the pain relief.” He mused, sitting down on the couch, “After all, they are the parents of the punks who've been tormenting your kids.”

There was an extended silence from Ishida and Ichigo almost wondered if the Quincy was going to hang up on him, however, when he heard a distinctive rubber snapping sound he assumed the man had put on some gloves, “I understand the situation... Many thanks for the update, Kurosaki. I'll make sure these _fine_ gentlemen get the treatment they deserve.”

Ichigo broke into a grin as the line went dead and closed his phone, “Enjoy.” He murmured to the empty apartment.

He glanced at his bruised and slightly scraped knuckles, sighing slightly. He'd forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that he wouldn't heal instantly. Sometimes he really missed Shiro's power. Ichigo got to his feet and reluctantly dragged himself into the bathroom, flicking the light on and running some water so he could clean up.

He stared at himself in the small mirror above the sink, pleased to note that the thugs hadn't managed to land a single hit on him. There was a speck of blood on his cheek but it wasn't his own and it soon washed off.

As he cleaned his hands, carefully applying a soothing balm to lessen the dull thudding ache in his knuckles, he found himself thinking about his conversation with Kaida in the ice cream parlour. He couldn't work out why his spirit ribbon was a blend of red and white. He was certain that if he had lost his powers it should have turned fully white. He frowned.

“Would it ever have been red to start with?” He tilted his head, “I never died. I was still technically Human when I went to Soul Society so... Shouldn't it have been white all along? Ugh who knows. Who cares. Doesn't change anything. You're just making yourself sound crazy by talking to yourself in the _fucking_ mirror.”


	89. On The Word Of Urahara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Urahara finally visits Soul Society and meets with the Shinigami, Visored and Espada, he gives them all the news they have been waiting for. A way to restore Ichigo's powers. But, he also delivers some news that none of them wanted to hear.

Byakuya stood in Division One restlessly, he wasn't alone. Anyone who was anyone was present. Taichou and Fukutaichou alike, the only exception was the noisy presence of Ikkaku and Yumichika who had been invited purely because of their connections and talents. The Espada and the Visored were also present, far more integrated with the Shinigami than they had been a few short months ago.

Starrk had made firm friends with Ukitake and Kyōraku, seemingly enjoying their aged wisdom and relaxed natures, and most likely Kyōraku's less than medicinal saké consumption. Harribel and Nelliel had found a girlfriend in Matsumoto, preening beneath the Division Ten Fukutaichou's carefree attitude to life and work and men. Szayel had made connects in Division Twelve and it was terrifying. The mere thought of what he could be capable of doing while working with Kurotsuchi made everyone's skin crawl in horror. No one slept with their doors unlocked anymore.

The biggest surprise among the Espada, was Grimmjow. Everyone, Byakuya included, had expected the Sexta to find contentment in Division Eleven with the likes of Kenpachi and his rabble. And yet... When the blue haired panther wasn't in Division Six, he was in Division Four with Unohana. The Kuchiki heir wasn't sure if he was more surprised, or if Unohana herself was.

According to Grimmjow, he would continue to stalk Division Four for as long as it took to learn Unohana's secret. Upon further poking, the Sexta had simply muttered something about the woman's smile, the smile that made even Taichou class Shinigami gasp in fear. Apparently, learning that smile was more important than any amount of destruction Division Eleven could offer.

Byakuya chuckled to himself quietly at the thought of Grimmjow shocking them all by becoming a medic. Unlikely. But an amusing prospect nevertheless.

Casting an eye around the room again, he saw Rukia and Tōshirō Hitsugaya talking fervently in the corner. They had been speaking frequently ever since the day after Rukia had unlocked her Bankai, and even now the white haired Taichou still seemed concerned, although his stance and expression was open and considerate. There was no question that their youngest Taichou would continue to coach his sister until she could use her new abilities without endangering her own life.

Rukia's Bankai... He was still amazed and in awe by that statement. Already she seemed to hold herself just a little bit taller, and with greater pride than before. Bankai was no easy feat, and the fact she had practically unlocked it while sleeping was laughably Rukia-like. She had always been far more gifted than she gave herself credit for.

“You're fidgeting.” Renji commented from his side.

Hissing in annoyance, he glared at the redhead, “Wouldn't you be? You know how important today is for me.”

“For us all.” Arms folded in frustration, “We all care about Ichigo, we all want him back. If Urahara has managed to find a way... It affects us all!”

“I didn't realise everyone in the room was planning to marry him.” He growled.

“For the love of- You're crabby when you haven't had enough sleep. Which is all the time these days.”

Byakuya's retort was silenced, the sound of wooden clogs on the floor outside made his heart stutter. He turned and watched as the doors opened wide, revealing the every goofy grin which had become Urahara's trademark over the years.

“Hello, hello. This is quite the welcoming committee.” The blond's smile seemed to grow, “It's very nostalgic, all this.”

“Come in, Urahara-san. There's no use lingering out in the hallway.” Kyōraku chuckled, gesturing with his hand for the man to come in, “No Yoruichi this time?”

“Ah, regrettably she had to remain in Karakura town. She's been unwell recently. Some awful stomach bug.” He replied nonchalantly as the doors shut behind him and he strode into the middle of the room, striped hat removed politely and tucked under his arm.

“Yoruichi-sama is ill?” Soi-Fon's ears had pricked at that, “What have you done to her now, you fiend?”

Urahara glanced at the small woman with puzzlement, “Nothing? It's a stomach bug?” He sounded less and less sure of his own answer under Soi-Fon's scrutiny.

“Send her our best wishes.” Ukitake smiled, “You said you had news to share, Urahara-san? I fear we are all most eager to hear it.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Rubbing the back of his head thoughtfully, Urahara's eyes seemed to pause on Byakuya's for a long moment, sobriety turning his smile into an expression of seriousness, “I wish to discuss Kurosaki-san.”

“Is he alright?” Renji was the first to respond, even going so far as to take a step forwards with his urgency.

“Have you seen him?” Rukia tore herself from her talk with Hitsugaya immediately.

Urahara lifted a hand to silence the battalion of questions, “I have seen him occasionally... Although I've remained out of sight. It seems he is unwilling to visit the store, I'm not sure why. He is... Coping, more or less.”

“More or less?” Byakuya felt the words escape him before he had a chance to stop them, “Don't talk in riddles, Urahara.”

Sighing, the blond rubbed his chin, “Yoruichi-san has been following him when I can't. It's been less frequent since she got ill but she still ventures out to monitor him. Physically, he's fine. He's doing fantastically in terms of adjusting to the loss of his powers and he has suffered no permanent ill effects of using Mugetsu.”

“And mentally?” Nelliel asked quietly.

“I cannot be sure. Ishida-san has mentioned some concerns, it seems Kurosaki-san fills his time with working or babysitting the Ishida children. When he cannot do either of those things... He begins to disconnect. He grows angry, restless... Violent. Just a few days ago he got into a street fight, while it was entirely justified he didn't try to avoid the situation.”

“What do you mean, justified?” Grimmjow snorted.

“The men he beat up were the parents of some children who have been bullying the Quincy children. Their leader also happened to be a young man who used to bully Ichigo as a child. So, yes it was rather justified.” The man folded his arms and sighed, “I'm confident he isn't at risk of doing anything foolish unless something changes drastically but... He is very isolated.”

“You can take the warrior out of the battle... But you can't take the battle out of the warrior.” Yumichika said with an uncomfortable breath.

“Indeed.” The blond agreed.

“Have you made any progress on restoring his powers?” Shinji asked.

Urahara let out a buff of breath and seemed to gather his thoughts, “If I am to speak plainly... Before arriving today I had exhausted every idea I'd come up with. I was out of ideas. Everything I had considered had failed in testing.”

The Kuchiki heir's heart sank immediately, he was sure it showed on his face from the way he caught Rukia looking at him.

“However...”

Byakuya's gaze jumped back up and he watched as Urahara placed his hat back on his head, pulling his trademark fan from his sleeve in a restless action.

“The original reason for my visit to Seireitei was not to meet with you all. It was as a result of an invitation I received.”

“An invitation?” Renji quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes... From the guards of Muken.” The blond's expression had darkened slightly, “Aizen requested to see me.”

“Sōsuke-kun did?” Kyōraku hummed, “This is the first I've heard.”

“What did he want?” Starrk asked quietly.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, the Espada and the Visored had become incredibly still even while their reiatsu fluctuated in a silent warning of frustration and anger at even hearing the man's name. Byakuya clenched a fist at his side as well, remembering the day he'd watched Aizen be sentenced.

Urahara licked his lips, “He asked me if I had uncovered a way to restore Kurosaki-san's Shinigami powers.”

“Wait, what? Why would he care?” Hisagi asked gruffly, scowling, “How did he even know you had been trying to find a way?”

“I don't know. And when I asked, he wouldn't answer.” The blond answered softly, eyes scanning the occupants of the room, “But as reluctant as I am to admit it... I now owe Sōsuke Aizen a favour, for he has potentially given me everything I need to bring Kurosaki-san back.”

Byakuya felt his heart skip a beat and he gulped, “Are you confident?”

Urahara looked at him for a long moment, seemingly considering his reply before he dared to speak, “I am.”

“Then indulge us Urahara, with this sudden brainwave.” Kurotsuchi's tone was less than friendly as he looked at his former superior with distaste.

Hands clasped together, the former Taichou sucked in a small breath, “Aizen reminded me of a fact that should have given me all the answers I needed to begin with, it was foolish of me not to have considered it... As you are aware, Kurosaki-san's father was a Shinigami. Isshin... May have been the first person to actually realise something was amiss with Aizen. They clashed just before Isshin left for the World of the Living. He hid his heritage after borrowing a special Gigai I had been working on at the time and eventually got married and lived a very Human life.”

“Is this going somewhere?” Byakuya asked impatiently.

“Yes. Because his Human life wasn't quite as Human as I first thought. Upon my own exile I had the pleasure of meeting his wife, Masaki. Kurosaki-san's mother.” Urahara paused, “She was a Quincy.”

“What?” The Kuchiki heir stared, “She was what?”

“I know, it seems unlikely for a Shinigami and a Quincy to get along, much less end up married with children!” The blond laughed.

“Did Ichigo know?” Renji looked between Byakuya and Urahara curiously, “Did he remember it when his memories were restored?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Byakuya muttered.

“I'm unsure how much Kurosaki-san was aware of by the time he fought Aizen for the last time.” The blond stated, “However, it is likely that Zangetsu was aware. According to Aizen, it would make sense that Zangetsu was not just the facet of Kurosaki-san's Shinigami powers, but also contained the knowledge and wisdom of his Quincy heritage.”

“So you are telling me...” Ukitake trailed off, “Ichigo-kun was a Quincy, a Shinigami and a Hollow... All at the same time... All along?”

“From the moment the Hōgyoku was used on him, yes.” Urahara nodded once, “But this benefits us. Kurosaki-san never unlocked his Quincy powers, because of Aizen bringing him to Soul Society before he hit adolescence. Had Kurosaki-san reached twelve... Thirteen years old in the World of the Living his full powers would have been realised.”

“How does that help us?” Starrk poked, “If anything surely it makes it harder to bring him back. Quincy are different to Shinigami. Their powers are destructive and relentless. Rather than purifying Hollow souls they obliterate them.”

“While that is entirely true, it still gives us a chance.” Urahara looked at the Primera, fluttering his fan thoughtfully, “To put it simply, while Kurosaki-san has entirely lost his Shinigami powers, you cannot lose something you didn't know you had.”

Byakuya frowned at the cryptic way the man spoke, but then his eyes brightened suddenly as everything made sense, “He never lost his Quincy powers... Because he never knew he had them! He still has reiatsu, Quincy reiatsu, it is simply locked away!”

Urahara smirked as he glanced at the Kuchiki heir and nodded once, “Exactly, Kuchiki Taichou! Exactly. As long has he still retains _some_ reiatsu, no matter how deeply it is hidden... It will be possible to restore his Shinigami powers. I have yet to work out a way to do it... But I'm confident that it can be done!”

“Whatever resources you require will be at your disposal, Urahara.” Kyōraku murmured, “Make use of Kurotsuchi Taichou, and Szayel-san if you require them.”

Byakuya almost snorted at the look of displeasure on Mayuri's face at the prospect of being bossed around by his former Taichou again. Szayel seemed content to help if it meant experimenting without limits.

Everything aside, whether it was Kurotsuchi's complaints or Szayel's eager suggestions already rabidly bouncing around the room, Byakuya felt himself relax. It was a microscopic action, probably unnoticed by most. His shoulders lost some of their rigidity and he allowed a small breath to escape his lips as they loosened. There was hope. After months of waiting, wishing, wondering. Urahara had brought him hope, it was in the most unlikely circumstances and with the strangest of sources but at last, there it was. A glimmering little glint of hope.

“Urahara.” Grimmjow's gruff baritone suddenly interrupted Byakuya's thoughts.

“Yes, Grimmjow-san?” The blond blinked.

“You said Aizen wouldn't tell you why he was willing to help bring Ichigo back,” The Sexta's arms were folded and his stance was almost defensive, “But you said you owe him a favour now. Has he named the favour?”

Urahara froze, every muscle in his body seemingly turning to stone as he lowered his gaze to the fan in his hands. His jaw set in a hard line as he spoke, “Yes. He has.”

“What could Aizen possibly want from you?” Renji scowled.

“I shudder to think.” Shinji hissed.

“A promise.” The former Taichou muttered, swallowing harshly before he released a nervous chuckle, “A promise to... Have Kurosaki-san visit Muken to see him, upon his return to Soul Society.”

Byakuya was sure the very world had ground to a stop as blood suddenly rushed in his ears, “You... Did... WHAT?!” He roared, his usual calm demeanour vanishing in a flash, “HOW _DARE_ YOU MAKE THAT PROMISE! AFTER _EVERYTHING_ AIZEN DID TO HIM! YOU HAD _NO_ RIGHT!”

He felt several strong pairs of hands wrapping around his arms, barely registering the fact he had attempted to storm towards the blond in his fit of rage. His fists were clenched, his reiatsu crackling in silent warning. He was seething. Rage bubbling in a way it hadn't since his childhood. A brief glance to his left revealed Renji and Kira holding his arm, while a look to his right showed Hisagi and Harribel holding the other.

The sound of a fist hitting flesh made Byakuya blink in surprise, his gaze drawn back to the blond as he watched Grimmjow's hand withdraw, knuckles split from the impact. The blue haired Espada was panting hard, his face the picture of unrelenting fury as the blond recoiled with a bloody nose.

“Ichigo will not be settin' foot in Muken.” He snarled.

Urahara seemed to stare at the Sexta for a long moment, silent and contemplating, perhaps calculating how much he valued his life before he responded, “Kurosaki-san has his own mind. Has any one of you ever managed to prevent him doing something he was determined to do? It is almost certainly his choice if he accepts or refuses the offer given to him.”

“Enough.” Ukitake had moved forwards, resting a hand on Grimmjow's shoulder reassuringly, “Let us take one step at a time for now. First things first, Urahara-san must discover the correct way to perform this feat. We can work on everything else after that point.”

It was at that moment, Byakuya noticed Szayel was tapping away at the data pad he seemed to carry everywhere with him. The pink haired Arrancar was frowning deeply, but then quite suddenly broke into a self satisfied smirk.

“I think... Perhaps, I might have a way. But it will take some time to set up.” Szayel rose to his feet, approaching Urahara, “And the scenario is rather... Niche.”

“Szayel...” Byakuya breathed, “Tell us everything you know.”

“Before that.” Urahara spoke again, his voice taking a strangely serious turn, even more so than it had before, “There was one last thing... That Aizen saw fit to share with me.”

Feeling his irritation return at the mere mention of the former Taichou rotting in the bowels of Division One, Byakuya let out a growl, “What now?”

The blond's eyes fixed on his, his smile gone. His nervous ticks gone. His fan... Gone. The nobleman felt a chill run through him at the sight. He hadn't seen that look since childhood... Since Urahara had been in charge of the Maggot's Nest. He didn't feel like he was looking at a goofy shop keeper right now. He didn't feel like he was looking at a former Taichou either. He felt like he was looking right into the mouth of a feral lion.

“Aizen sensed a disturbance through the Hōgyoku. Something stirring in the distance, originating in Las Noches, but passing to another World. Something dark, powerful... And brimming with emptiness” His voice was low, dangerous, “I fear we will have to move fast if we are going to restore Kurosaki-san's powers before it is too late.”

“Too late?” Renji repeated uncertainly.

Urahara's eyes never left Byakuya's, the Kuchiki heir felt another chill slide through him like frigid fingers before he slowly... Slowly, slowly, slowly looked at Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. The blue haired Espada met his gaze, he could see a swirl of fear in those azure eyes and he knew they were thinking the same thing. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't sure how. But he knew... He knew what Aizen had felt. He knew why they'd have to hurry.


End file.
